


Reunion

by wordsphoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Family reunion in the lovely suburbs of Dallas, Harry and Draco on vacation, M/M, NaNoWriMo 2019, Unexpected reunion with a tinge of career fair, holiday fic, road trip at the beginning too because why not, tragically it's Thanksgiving, vacation fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:06:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21626530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsphoenix/pseuds/wordsphoenix
Summary: Harry hasn't seen Dudley in years, but they have been exchanging Christmas Cards. And Dudley wants him to come stay. Which is fine, really, Harry just has to fly over an ocean and bring Draco for moral support and meet the whole extended family because they're doing Thanksgiving and he's always wanted to see America, anyway. Might as well.Introducing the fantastic the spectacular the wonderful ELLA DURSLEY, four-year-old extraordinaire, destroyer of worlds, etc, etc. Almost no magic at all because it would be a little hard to explain to a four-year-old, astonishing intelligence aside. Penny is the Greatest Mom. Blanket TW for general panic and Harry thinking about his childhood. Minor TW for anxiety and eating disorders, both mentioned in chapter 6. Lots of Harry processing emotions. Also some sweariness and mentions of sexytimes.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 46
Kudos: 223





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've never done fanfiction for nanowrimo but honestly so relaxing so enjoyable highly recommend the experience I hope you enjoy this result.

“How much did you sleep last night?”

Harry yawned. “Three hours.” He might’ve tried to play it off as longer if Draco wasn’t giving him that look, the one that implored honesty.

Draco’s reply was light. “Oh, is that all?”

“Might’ve been two.” Harry was stood in the kitchen doorway. He had nights like this; so did Draco. Sometimes just didn’t sleep. Used to it by now.

Draco sighed and leaned to kiss his forehead. “Ridiculous. You should go back to bed.”

“You need me to do the thing,” Harry protested with a vague gesture towards the floor. They lived above the café they were renovating down an offshoot of Diagon, and Harry said he’d take the old light fixtures out before he went to work.

“Do it this tired and we’ll have our first insurance claim on our hands.”

“Ha ha.” Even if Draco had a point. Harry returned the kiss to Draco’s cheek, taking the chance to mess his hair as well.

“Rogue,” Draco said as Harry pulled away.

“That’s me.” Harry went to pour half a cup of coffee, then filled the mug with milk the rest of the way.

“You’re ruining it,” Draco said. “Just drink tea, if you can’t appreciate it properly.”

“Putting milk in _tea_ ruins it,” Harry countered.

“My regulars are going to hate you.”

Harry tipped his mug.

Draco snorted. “You’re a bad influence. If we weren’t fifty-fifty I wouldn’t let you behind the counter.”

“We don’t have a counter yet,” Harry said pointedly.

“Soon.” Draco edged around him to refill his own coffee cup.

“How many is that?” Harry may be worse at sleep, but he wasn’t the caffeine addict.

Draco’s trying-not-to-sound-guilty voice confirmed it. “Just three.”

“You are ill.”

“I must be, if I’m going to America with you.”

Harry hummed his agreement. It was a terrible idea, going to see Dudley. They needed a holiday. A vacation. Dudley’s family might not be one, hopeful though Harry had to have been to have accepted the invitation in the first place. Not to mention the timing. But Dudley had asked him. He’d invited Harry to come to his house and meet his family and how could Harry say no to that? “Are you sure you’ll be okay, leaving everything with Blaise?”

“Of course not. If we didn’t have early access to mobile Floo I wouldn’t leave the street.” Draco was rather nitpicky about his projects. Harry could understand it this time, since he was putting everything into this one. Draco’d flitted around plenty of social and charity and business circles when he’d first been figuring things out, but the café was just his. It was a thing that only he wanted to do and that he was really doing despite there being no indication- beyond his own brilliance and Harry’s unfailing support- that it would be a good idea. The café had to work, because it was the thing Draco had chosen to do with himself.

Even so, not leaving the street sounded a bit much. “That seems excessive. What if you need building supplies? Don’t you want to pick them yourself?”

“I’d send you to get them.”

Harry smiled. It really was better they were leaving. Draco had hardly left the café in a week, and they’d only just finished fixing the walls. “Just like you’d send me for all the groceries and anything else you could possibly think of even if we did stay here, because you still wouldn’t leave the street.”

“Exactly.”

Harry sighed. “I’m being an idiot, dragging you across an ocean, aren’t I?”

“Absolutely not. It’s good for our health. I need to give up control for more than five minutes and you need some fucked-up-family closure.” Ever since Harry brought it up Draco wanted to do it. Seemed to have gotten over his doubts about abandoning the renovation in about three seconds, so it must be important. That wasn’t a joke, them talking about Draco not leaving the street. It was true. It meant that much to him. So it had to mean loads more to him that Harry was doing this, or... something like that. Well, that and Draco was right, it’d be good for him to leave the cafe, but something being good for him was rarely Draco’s primary reason for doing anything.

Harry wondered if Draco had seen something on his face that told him he needed it. He had to have, to have dropped everything like that for him. Even after all the planning Harry still didn’t feel like he had a great reason, beyond common courtesy and wanting to cultivate a decent relationship with the only family member he had willing to try. That was the point, wasn’t it? It’d be nice. Seeing Dudley. Being a person around him. Catching up. Wasn’t as if either of them had ever had the desire while they were still in school. But then, “What if it’s not? Closure?”

“Ah,” Draco said with a quick smile. “On to the thing we should be talking about.”

Harry huffed his annoyance. “I mean it. What if he’s nice, and then we suddenly have cousins in America?” Harry knew how ridiculous he sounded. He knew it.

Of course, Draco was used to it. “If you didn’t think he was nice you wouldn’t be going. Think the better question is how you’re going to handle it when it’s not closure.”

Harry slumped against the counter. “I’ll handle it weird, like I always handle things. Especially family things.”

Draco squeezed his arm. “Oh, don’t with this again. That’s not true. You love my mother and you aren’t even officially legally related to her.”

“Your mother’s lovely. I was talking about Teddy and Andromeda.”

“You’re wonderful with him. And Aunt Andie’s never been very expressive.”

Harry looked up, desperate in a way he really did not like to be if he could avoid it. “What if I’m not good with Ella? With either of them?”

Draco took his hand. “You will be. And if things don’t work out it’ll be through no fault of your own, because you’re trying. I can tell you from experience that’s the best one can be expected to do in a situation like this.” His eyes were beautiful and sincere and made Harry want to believe him.

After three years, how was it so hard to believe him? “What if it doesn’t work out?” It was the biggest worry on his mind. Harry _knew_ it wouldn’t be his fault without Draco having to point it out, that short of some massive disaster or incredible rudeness on the part of people who had shown nothing but hospitality thus far, everything would be fine anyway. The only real problem now was Petunia, and she- was not something Harry could deal with at the moment. Better deal with things that were likely to work out anyway, like his getting along with Dudley. Those were easier to think about. If things didn’t work out Harry had experience to fall back on. He was used to not getting along with Dudley. But if he did-

“You’re being silly,” Draco said softly. “They’ve sent Christmas cards three years in a row.”

“The first one didn’t have you on it.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “We weren’t making all of London privy to our shagging just then. You can hardly hold that against them.”

“Okay. But Christmas cards don’t- Millie and Pansy send them.”

“Are you implying that my friends are inauthentic?” Draco asked, mock-scandalized.

“Never. I just think-”

“I think you’re brooding, and I need to get to work,” Draco said. He strode towards the door.

“It’s hardly gone seven!” Harry called after him.

“Some of our contractors keep strange hours,” Draco said, already halfway out the door. He shut it behind him, leaving Harry with nothing but a half-cold cup of coffee and the sound of his retreating footsteps. And some very unwelcome thoughts to sort.

“I’m not brooding,” Harry said aloud. It didn’t sound very convincing.

After a decent few minutes ruminating over toast, Harry went to get dressed himself and head into work. It was his last day at the bookshop before the holiday, a fantastic quiet wizarding one where he didn’t have to put away his wand but didn’t have to worry about being recognized either because he was old news by then and the shop was really hard to find if you weren’t looking for it. He managed the place by then, went in most days to see how it was doing even if he’d farmed the work to one of the fresh-out-of-Hogwarts employees. He’d be sad to go, but when Draco’s shop was finally finished there’d be plenty of room for books. Harry figured that was much safer than constantly being tempted to take the nice ones home just to have a look, where he would inevitably spill fancy coffee all over them and subsequently be unable to get it out without destroying the magic. There were plenty of rare nonmagical books in the shop, too, of course. But on that point Harry agreed with his employer: to damage and fix them with magic would ruin them in another way, destroy the authenticity of any preservation or restoration that had been done up to that point. He wouldn’t dare risk spilling coffee on one of those.

Harry spent the day darting around the shop making sure everything was as in order as he could make it. He had ample time to accomplish this, given he got in nearly an hour before they opened. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the employees- it was more like the same way Rollins, the bookshop owner, didn’t completely trust Harry. You could never expect someone to do something with as much attention to detail as you could.

Come to think of it, Harry had no idea how Draco was mentally capable of leaving a project this intensive without risking complete insanity. When it came to things without his name on- or things he didn’t care much about- Draco couldn’t care less. But with stakes like these, more or less the honor of the family name, shite though that might be worth to Harry or Draco personally-

“Brooding again?” Draco asked as Harry stepped into the cafe. He’d come home early to pack, and renovations were in full swing, though thankfully most of the work was being done in the dining room and not the main room so he could actually hold a conversation without shouting.

“Every time you say that I feel ridiculous.” Harry dropped his keys on the table where the counter would be and went to wrap his arms around Draco.

“You look terrible.”

“I didn’t sleep, remember?”

Draco raised his eyebrows in an ‘I rest my case’ sort of way.

“What about you? Have you eaten lunch?”

“Yes,” Draco said. But he was a little pink around the edges.

“A piece of fruit isn’t lunch, Draco. What about baking?” They’d done the kitchen first, thank Merlin, to give Draco time to work out what all he wanted to make. And because if he didn’t have complete control over something he really would go insane.

Blaise’s voice drifted through the opening to the dining room. “He’s been micromanaging.”

“Sorry. Didn’t see you there,” Harry said, turning so he was hugging Draco from behind. They were far past the point of withholding PDA, and given he was exhausted and they were standing in their own godsdamned shop, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I’ve been told my Disillusionment charms are superb. When are you leaving for the honeymoon?”

“It is definitely not a honeymoon,” Harry said. “But three tomorrow afternoon.”

“Ugh. Have fun with the jet lag.”

“Fuck off,” Draco said. “And shouldn’t you know when we’re leaving? You’ll be in charge of everything the second we go.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m kicking you out at six.”

“What?” Both of them said at once.

“You’ve got a reservation and a fantastic hotel room and this way I can start working on everything tonight instead of being twenty hours behind.”

“What does our presence for twenty more hours have to do with anything?” Draco asked.

Blaise snorted. Harry had to agree with him there, even if he wasn’t fond of being kicked out of his own house. “It’s better if you put a little distance between the anxiety and the plane, not to mention neither of you’s going to sleep anyway so at least this way you might be tempted to fuck yourselves into exhaustion-”

“Hang on,” Harry said, realization dawning, “Are you stealing our house? To work in?”

“I need to run this operation from somewhere, and I don’t think a portable table-”

“I can’t believe this,” Draco said. “After everything I’ve done for you-”

“I got you a hotel room and a very expensive meal. D’you know how long it takes muggles to do a renovation like this?”

“More than a month?” Harry suggested, resigned.

“More than a month,” Blaise said. “So if you’d please kindly go and pack so you can both get out-”

“How d’you know I’m not already-” Harry shut up at the look they both gave him. “Right. Thanks so much.”

“I love you, darling,” Draco said to Harry’s retreating back.

Harry flipped him off.

Once upstairs, he was alone with his thoughts again. At least at the bookshop he’d had a hundred things to distract himself. Making sure he had enough pants for a week and a half did not require enough brainpower to help him now.

Time went by. Harry wasn’t sure how much. He only knew he got stuck on how nice of clothes to bring and then sat frozen on the bed for a while before Draco came upstairs. “Need some help?”

“No.”

Draco went to sit beside him. “You know we can use magic around them if he doesn’t mind? They’ve got a better statute.”

Harry turned, confused. “How does that solve anything?”

“You can transfigure your clothes.”

Harry flopped back on the bed and gave over to the brooding.

He really didn’t want to not like Dudley. He wasn’t really worried he wouldn’t.

It was more he was worried Petunia and Vernon would somehow cross his path and he wouldn’t know what to do. That and they’d colossally fuck everything up, which was par for the course anyway.

“We can get a hotel,” Draco said softly.

Harry didn’t look away from the ceiling. “I didn’t know you were so good at legilimency.”

“I’m not. I can just read your face.”

“You’re one of maybe four people in the world who can. I’ve been told I make very blank expressions when I’m in distress.”

“Who told you that?”

“Hermione.”

“She has a point.”

Harry tipped his head to look at Draco. “How long did it take you?”

“What?” Draco blinked. “To learn your mood that well?” Harry nodded. “Knew.”

“From before?”

Draco smiled. “Why d’you think I didn’t push your buttons every single chance I got?”

“Could’ve fooled me.” Harry sat up. “Molly would kill me if I tried to get a hotel.”

“Dudley’s not Molly.”

Harry sighed. “Will you help me finish this?”

“’Course I will.”

True to his word, Blaise pushed them out the door the second the clock struck six. According to the ‘from the desk of Blaise Zabini’ stationery shoved into Harry’s hand as the door slammed in his face, they were headed to a very nice muggle hotel where no one would recognize them and they could have a lovely dinner and as much room service as they wanted but if Draco didn’t go an entire week at least before calling Blaise he’d tear the renovation plans in half and do whatever he liked with the place.

Harry thought all of it was a little extreme, though he couldn’t help but enjoy the unexpected early start to the maybe-vacation. There was no fear of ‘what if I forgot x’ because they were still in London. Probably also helped that they could just call Blaise and ask him if they needed him to check the stove or something. Not that wizarding safety regulations allowed stoves to be left on. Still. The reassurance was there, if they needed any.

Draco ordered something he liked rather than the most expensive item on the menu, which was a good sign.

After dinner they headed up to the room. It really was nice; Blaise’d pulled out all the stops, apparently, to keep them distracted until they were safely out of the country. The first thing Harry did was flop on the bed and lay facedown, breathing in the scent of no sawdust and no plaster and (though he missed this one) none of Draco’s baked experiments. Just the borderline-antiseptic freshness of the pristine bedspread. And silence. No bustling on the street outside, no distant sirens or construction noises. Good soundproofing on the windows.

Felt unnatural. Harry was glad when Draco broke it turning on the bath. He flipped his head to face the hall and called, “Washing the dust off?”

Draco laughed. “No. Thought I’d get warm. Want to come?”

Harry slithered off the bed and went to stand in the bathroom doorway. He’d only given it a passing glance when they brought up their bags. It really was a beautiful room. “How much does one pay for a tub that large?”

“Who cares? If our number one investor wants to give us a bonus, let him.”

Harry shook his head. “He’s not an investor. Fifty-fifty.”

Draco looked over, imploring. “We aren’t paying him. He’s investing something.”

“He said it’d be a vacation for him. A break from the life of luxury entertaining clients, or something. Welcome structure. We asked him six times.”

“Think it was eight, actually.” Draco reached out to test the water. “It’s hot. Do you mind?”

“No. We can let it cool for a bit. Untuck the sheets.”

When the tub was full they went back into the main room; Harry stepped towards the bed, but Draco grabbed his arm. “It’s so nice.”

Harry rolled his eyes and yanked the nearest corner of bedspread. “We’re going to mess it up no matter what. And it’s the only thing I really don’t like about hotels. Apart from them not being my house.”

“We make our bed,” Draco said, confused.

“Yes.” Harry had finished the second corner and began rolling up the useless decorative over blanket thing. “But we don’t tuck our outer sheet in. It’s worse than a sleeping bag. You’re trapped.”

“Oh. You don’t like feeling tucked in?”

Harry went back to the bed and plopped down on it for good measure. “No.”

A second of eye-contact was enough for Draco to get it. “Jesus I’m stupid.”

“Don’t,” Harry said sharply. They may never remember everything about each other all the time, no matter how much they wanted to. Humans were imperfect creatures. “I thought wizards weren’t Christian?”

“Not technically speaking, no, but- did you want to change the subject?” Draco was giving him that look again. Not quite ‘talk to me,’ but close.

“About what? How I lived in a cupboard and then had to run away every summer, or how I didn’t know a thing about my parents ‘til Hagrid told me?”

Draco threw his arms in the air. “If you insist.” He kicked his shoes off and strode into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

This wasn’t a new phenomenon. When Harry was being too bitter for Draco’s liking he’d do the same dramatic bit- which Harry was pretty sure was short for ‘if you insist on wallowing like a silly child, by all means continue to do so in solitude.’ The first few times Harry hadn’t known what to do and they’d just sort of picked up talking later like nothing happened; occasionally Harry stormed after him and started a fight. On this particular evening he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. The very suggestion that he didn’t have a right to feel all kinds of fucked-up was laughable. Of course, Draco hadn’t really suggested that. More that Harry was being stupid if he didn’t want to talk about it, given his favorite other outlet for emotion was kicking things, and that didn’t help anybody…

Harry sighed and went to the bathroom. He knocked.

“It’s unlocked. Silly.”

Harry went in. He was met with an immediate onslaught of steam. “Why do you put up with me?”

Draco shrugged, the motion audible in the water. “You’re distracting me. I’ve considered calling Blaise once a minute since we got here.” Then, when Harry said nothing, “Get in.”

Harry stripped off, grateful to remove the layers in the oppressive heat. “Shouldn’t there be less steam in here?”

“Spelled it.”

Harry laughed and got in the tub, somehow managing not to overflow the thing even though it came most of the way up Draco’s chest before Harry got in. He sat opposite Draco, legs pulled to his own chest. As closed-off as he could be, stark naked. “Did you spell the water, too?”

“It’ll stay warm. What’s bothering you?”

Draco knew. About Harry’s shitty childhood and his torturous summers and all the twisting disgust that came out of hating the only family you had alive, the only person who knew the first decade of your mother’s life. Draco knew everything, same way Harry knew everything. You didn’t look at a person the way Draco looked at him and not know, not tell.

All Harry had to do was say the details. What was bothering him in particular that day. Or, in this case that month, since it’d been floating around in the back of his mind nonstop since he wrote Dudley back to say ‘yes.’ “It was just over. It was over, done with, closed, and now it’s not.”

Draco waited.

“I was never supposed to see them again. I was never going to see any of them again, unless- unless I wanted to- and- what if he invites her? I know he’ll invite her.” Vernon he could take or leave. Easy enough to walk out of a room or spend a few hours ignoring someone. Hell, he’d taught Harry that. It was his aunt, his lying deceiving betraying aunt- “I could never do that to Hermione. Never. No matter how angry I got, how jealous- and she isn’t even blood.”

“Blood doesn’t mean anything.”

Harry looked up. “I know. I know it doesn’t. But I can’t be sure, can I? Not when-” Not when his whole life all he’d known from blood relatives was _this_. “How does someone do that and live with themselves?”

Draco shook his head. “They don’t. Not really. If she truly regretted what she did to your mother-”

“She wouldn’t have given up the second she saw me?” That wasn’t the whole thing. The whole thing was ‘she wouldn’t have given up _on me_ the second she saw me,’ because that was it. She hadn't known him. He wasn’t even a person yet. But out of spite for her sister- Harry stared at the water again. Out of spite for her sister she’d taken in her nephew and decided to give him the minimum he needed to even be a person, never mind who he turned out to be. Fuck. “I was well enough off in the end. I made a family. I learned that can be just as good, better. When you don’t have an excuse to keep choosing someone you’d be better off not choosing.” It was the same problem Draco had, wasn’t it? Not wanting to be related to someone but not being able to help it. Harry shook his head. “I’m fine. She shouldn’t have this much power. I shouldn’t let her.”

“Can’t change the past.”

It came like a punch in the stomach. Harry was used to hearing it. Had heard it hundreds of times when they first started spending time with each other and hundreds since then. Never thought of it like this. As a recognition that the past would always be a part of him. Unchangeable, set, a thing that just was no matter how hard he tried to fucking get over it-

Draco’s voice cut in. “Don’t.”

Eye contact again. “Fucking legilimens, _what_?”

“Shut down.”

That was just perfect, wasn’t it, Draco reading his every expression and interpreting it for him. “I’m not.”

“I know what it looks like.” Draco raised his left arm out of the bathwater, baring the massive burn scar on his inner forearm.

Harry didn’t like having his anger bounce back like that, useless. Like screaming at a blank wall. Draco’d be calm no matter what he did. He knew it when he came in the room. S’why he’d done it. Harry’s voice came out softer this time. “What do I do?”

“Feel it.”

“If I feel it I’ll-” Harry cut off. He didn’t know. He hadn’t had something to be angry about, not like this, in a very long time. That’s why he was so upset about it. Wasn’t fair.

“Trash the room?”

Harry glanced up. “What?”

“If that’s what you’re worried about, destroy it. We can fix it. Here.” Draco stuck his left arm out and his wand shot into it. “Silencing charm. On top of the one I did when we first got here. Go on.”

Harry dug his nails into his calves. He started to shake.

“Go.”

“I don’t want to.”

“What do you-”

Harry sobbed. He dripped tears into the bathtub.

The water stayed warm the whole time. “You haven’t done that in a while,” Draco said. He was holding him, then, stroking his hair.

“Done what?” Harry sniffed. “Had an emotional outburst?”

Draco shook his head. “Felt something. Like that. That much.”

Harry laughed. “Idiot thought we’d be having sex all night.”

“I don’t think he thought anything except I’d be out of his way.”

Harry laughed again. He felt lighter. Like the tears had weighed a ton and were gone now, even though the thing that brought them was still there. “I’m scared it’ll hurt. Thinking I could have had family, and…”

Draco tightened his arms. “Won’t.”

“Why?” Harry twisted to look at him. “How do you know?”

Draco smiled. “Wouldn’t have been able to be friends with me many ways, and you don’t regret that. What makes you think this’d be different?”

Harry cracked a grin. “Oh, so because I’m not massively regretful about not befriending your little shite of a self-”

“Exactly. You think Pansy feels bad about not befriending you sooner?”

“Pansy loves me. But no. Alright. I see your point. I am also feeling unreasonably wet, so we should-”

“Right,” Draco said, and wandlessly vanished the bathwater.

Harry sprung up, yelling about how ridiculous it was and sprinting for the bed. Draco sauntered in a moment later. He looked unreasonably smug for someone who, based on the goosebumps all over his skin, was clearly also freezing. Once Draco got to the bed he showed off again and made the blankets warm, and for as exasperated as he still was all Harry could do then was melt into them. “You’re a fucking arse.”

“I know,” Draco said, burrowing into his shoulder.

Harry yawned. “Turn off the-”

The room went dark.

“Fucking show-off.”


	2. Chapter 2

Harry had never been on a flight this long, and it disoriented him in a way not even long-distance apparition ever had.

It wasn’t some uncomfortable wrenching through space or fireplaces; the flight was a disruption of time stretched-out enough to notice, slipping into this in-between place where hours meant nothing and the whole world was suspended while you waited to get back to it.

“I’m not letting you drive,” Draco said.

“You’ve done it less. The wheel’s on the wrong side.”

“Boo fucking hoo.” Draco snatched the rental keys off the table. They were sitting in the rental lobby at the airport, having just rearranged their bags so they’d have what they needed for the drive.

“Driving was a stupid fucking idea,” Harry said.

“You’re sweary when you’re tired.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to all the young children overhearing you.”

Harry put his head in his hands. “Why did we do this?”

“Do you want to get a flight?”

“No. Dudley’s not expecting us for days. And we won’t see anything if we fly there.”

Draco rolled his eyes, Harry could hear it in the way he spoke. “We’ll see Dallas.”

“Technically Texas is like its own separate country, supposedly.”

“You started and ended that sentence with adverbs and you think I’d let you drive.”

“Oh, shut up.” Harry raised his head and stood. “Let’s go. Not like I don’t have to stay awake anyway.”

“Why would you have to stay awake?”

“Because if I don’t you’ll call Blaise or fall asleep yourself.”

Draco smiled. “You think I can work an American payphone?”

Harry shook his head. “Mobile Floo, you shouldn’t be driving either, Merlin’s-”

“You’ve got it,” Draco said.

Harry blinked, patted at his pockets, and felt the little vial there. They’d had to pack it in a muggle-repelling pouch inside their luggage. In the five minutes since he’d retrieved it Harry had forgotten it was in his pocket. His right one, impossible for Draco to reach in the car even if Harry did fall asleep. “I still don’t think either of us should be driving.”

“I brought a potion.”

Harry stared at him.

“For staying up, if it comes to that.”

“Draco! That’s illegal,” Harry hissed.

“You think someone’s listening in the rental car lobby?”

“Three years I’ve invested,” Harry said, looking into the middle distance. “Three years being with you and we’re going to be sent to Azkaban as international fugitives.”

“Merlin’s fucking-”

“Three years of bliss in exchange for a life of suffering. If I had known then, would I have made the same-” Draco put his hand over Harry’s mouth. Harry licked it.

“Ugh!” Draco yanked his hand away. “Come on, or I’ll drag you.”

“Don’t think American muggles like scenes being made in airports any more than ours do.”

“Harry James Potter-”

“Okay, I’m going.” Harry started for the exit. A few feet into the parking lot, “You know it’s sort of weird that you do that when you’re mad at me.”

“Of course I bloody know, s’why I do it.”

Harry shot him a quizzical look.

“Gets you to stop.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but-

“I know it won’t change now you know, you still think it’s annoying enough that you’ll be reasonable to avoid it.”

“Why aren’t you a politician?” They had found the car and were loading their luggage into the trunk. It was a mid-size sedan, comfortable but not overlarge or ostentatious. Most of the driving they’d done had been in miscellaneous friends’ cars or Ron’s tiny city car. After a glance around the SUV-filled parking lot Harry was glad they weren’t in a miniscule two-seater.

“Harry-”

“No, I mean it. You’d be brilliant.” Harry slammed the trunk shut. “No one’d be able to contradict you and even if they did you’d turn them on their head anyway.”

They continued the argument until they were safely on the highway heading west out of Atlanta. Once or twice they had to stop to make sure they weren’t going the wrong way, but the road signs were alright and most of the drive would be a straight shot down the I-20.

When planning the trip, Harry had asked if Draco wanted to go anywhere else while they were in the country. It was a big country, with two very different coasts and loads of regions in between; surely there must be something he wanted to see or do.

But Draco had only shrugged. “I don’t mind. Just want to drive a bit and see whatever there is to see in his city. You said it was Dallas. Where is that?”

“Texas. It’s the biggest state. Well, technically.” Harry had used his fringe work benefits to research Dudley’s greater metropolitan sprawl. The little he did find on Dudley’s particular suburb marked it as one of the fastest-growing offshoots of Dallas. There was also some bit about ‘agricultural roots’ and ‘southern hospitality,’ but Harry knew better than to put too much stock in an outdated travel guide.

If someone asked Harry where in America he’d like to go- as Draco did, right on the heels of Harry asking him- he wouldn’t have chosen Texas. Not unless it was part of a longer drive, anyway. “I don’t know. Suppose we’ll learn a bit more about America when we’re there and if it’s that important we’ll book a flight to New York before coming home.”

He’d done more research since then and landed on the same conclusion: although Harry would not object to seeing lots of cool stuff, the trip was overwhelming enough already. He’d worry about being a tourist after more pressing concerns were worked out. Since Atlanta was the world’s busiest airport, or one of them, it was simpler to fly there than directly to Dallas. It’d saved them money (not that it mattered, since Harry would have spent it if he had to not to mention he’d long since given up caring when Draco deemed something worthy of levelling a blow at the Malfoy estate) and give them a proper two or three day road trip. That seemed the big American thing to do, or one of them. This way they’d get a bit of sightseeing in- or as much of it as was possible from a highway- and not be taking time away from the point of the trip. Mostly America was known for loving freedom, having a very diverse population and loads of different regional traditions, ridiculous food, giant malls, and road trips. So, while there were probably a host of interesting things to do in New York or Chicago, for the purposes of this trip, Dallas would do just fine.

Three hours into the drive, Harry said, “We should stop.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s the longest you’ve ever driven, it’s very dark outside, and that sign says there are places to stay at the next exit.”

“Good point.” Draco got in the right lane.

Harry thought back on his expectations of America and asked, “How many malls did we pass?”

“Lost count.”

“Flags?”

Draco took his eyes off the road longer than he should have to give him a look.

“Alright, fine, that one was stupid. It’s supposed to be worse in the south.”

“What d’you mean, worse?”

“The patriotism. Supposed to be worse.”

They’d made it to the exit; Draco slowed down and peered out the window. “Which hotel?”

“Hilton. Heard they’re consistent.”

“Right.” Draco made a left. “Good signage.”

Most of the exits were cluttered with giant signs on massive poles. “I think it’s like that the whole way. Or I hope it is, at least.” They’d made it past the suburbs, into stretches of nothing and farmland. The signs were the only thing that had stayed the same since Atlanta.

Draco pulled into a space and turned off the car. Then he said, “Oh, shit.”

“What?”

“We’re in a small town.”

“So?”

“So we’ve never done this before. Even at home.”

The emphasis sank in and Harry frowned. “Oh.” They were two men. In a relationship. In the notoriously intolerant middle of nowhere. “Just don’t be obvious. And don’t worry. I’ll get the room. You just worry about the bags.” Harry reached for the door, but Draco’s hand on his knee stopped him. “What?”

Draco’s eyes were wide. He’d never been in a situation remotely like this. Yes, he had grown used to people spitting in the streets, but that wasn’t the same kind of violent fanaticism used to scare same-sex loving people into hiding. “Should we be more worried about this?”

“No. I was a fugitive for a year, I’d know. And this place is supposed to be free, right? Not to mention they’ve got a better statute.” Meaning they could Confund just about anyone they had to to get out of a bad situation, should one even come up.

Draco’s worry shifted to unease. “A few hours ago you were waxing poetic about not wanting to become a criminal.”

“Was I? Doesn’t sound like me.” Harry waited, straight-faced, until Draco cracked a smile. “Alright?”

“Alright.”

They went in. The woman at the front desk looked chipper for the hour; must have been night shift, Harry guessed. She laughed in surprise at their accents and made the assumption they’d need two beds, but Harry said a pull-out was fine. Just a stop on the drive. Visiting a cousin in Dallas. She said she hoped they’d have a nice trip and handed over two keys. “Enjoy your time in Tuscaloosa!”

Harry passed one key to Draco and led the way to the elevator. “What state are we in?”

“Alabama,” Draco said. The elevator opened, empty, to admit them.

“Still?”

Draco shrugged. “States are much bigger in the south, you said. Each one’s as big as a country.”

“Texas is the biggest. We’ll be in the state for hours before we make it there.”

Draco shot him a glance as the doors slid shut. “You alright?”

“No. Might have to trash this room.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Because that drastically lowers our chances of getting kicked out or arrested.”

The room was a simpler version of the one they’d stayed in the night before leaving London. Perfectly-tucked sheets, chair and a lamp, desk. Only difference was the lack of kitchenette in favor of a tiny coffee maker and a minifridge. And the shitty tub. “Guess we’ll have to be cold.”

Draco snorted. “Are you kidding me? It’s twenty-five out there.”

“More like twenty.”

“Because it’s night. It’ll be hot enough tomorrow, I bet.”

“We may be south, but it’s still November.”

Draco sat on the bed. “Believe it or not, I actually did some research. Average temperature’s fifteen.”

Harry sat next to him. “Was that you admitting your folly or are you just stating facts?”

“Both, I guess. If you’re the only one in the room.”

After a moment of unhelpful thought, Harry said, “I really am an idiot.”

“Maybe. Best try to sleep anyway.”

In the morning they availed themselves of the complimentary breakfast and were back in the car by nine. Neither of them had slept much; Harry was able to convince Draco they were even and he should drive. The only condition was that every time they saw something interesting they’d stop, and once they hit a big city in the next state they should make another attempt at getting a decent night’s sleep. The map Harry’d bought at the airport was utilitarian, offering little in the way of tourist traps. He figured he should ask Dudley if there were any they missed, on the off chance they decided to drive back to Atlanta before heading home.

Roughly every ten minutes Harry thought of something that could go wrong once they got there and vented to Draco about it. It kept Draco from wresting the mobile Floo from Harry’s pocket and calling Blaise, and it made Harry feel the tiniest bit better about whatever in particular he’d been talking about.

After a while Harry got road fatigue and they switched. He decided they could talk about something other than his problems then, because Draco had staying on the right side of the road to distract him. “What do you think?”

“Of what, America?”

Harry shrugged. “Sure. The southern countryside. Or whatever you call countryside when it’s usually blazing hot.”

“Think it’s still countryside.” Draco stared out the windshield.

“Well?” Being a passenger made Harry impatient.

Draco glanced at him. “Think it’s alright.”

“Oh, do you?” Harry asked sarcastically.

“No, really. It’s alright. I may be partial to the sprawling majesty of French fields, but this is fine. It's just different. Every countryside tastes different.”

“That verb doesn’t make any sense, you know.”

“Neither does your becoming a bookworm, but here we are.”

“That makes more sense than anything else.” Or it did as far as Harry was concerned, anyway. Books gave him an escape and a link to the past, a place to go to get away from everyone and a way to feel connected to kindred spirits even if they were long dead. He wished he would’ve read more at Privet Drive. Might have drawn some of the anger away, like it had when he’d got fed up with nosy Prophet reporters and well-meaning friends alike.

The next time they pulled off at a rest stop Harry went and stood in the grass for a while. It was peaceful, no one but a couple families and a handful of truck drivers around, and the area was set far enough off the road for the noise of passing cars to feel much farther away. When Draco asked if he was alright Harry waved a hand and felt the retreating presence.

He was here, maybe a day from seeing Dudley again and possibly a week or two from seeing Petunia. In the few letters they’d exchanged to plan the trip, Harry had worked out what he wanted to say to Dudley: nothing. That he was glad to be there and glad to see him again, glad to meet his family. Nothing about the past. Wasn’t necessary. As far as Harry was concerned, they’d parted on decent terms. If they hadn’t Dudley never would have sent the Christmas card. If they ended up talking about the past, so be it. If not he’d be fine.

But Petunia, dear old Aunt Petunia... What would he say to her?

You ruined my life? Too reductive, and self-explanatory besides. She knew she’d ruined his life at least a little. For as awful as he’d had it Harry didn’t feel ten-plus years after the last of his time living in the Dursley residence was an appropriate moment to bring it all up. He had nothing to say to her anyway; couldn’t change the past.

But she could tell him about it. The past. His past, his mother’s past. His father’s even, skewed though that information was guaranteed to be. He didn’t know what Lily’s life had been like, before Hogwarts. Nothing but the little he’d glimpsed in photographs, the little Professor Snape had given him. It felt wrong to call it little. Snape’s memories doubled his knowledge of his mother. They shouldn’t have. He shouldn’t have known so little.

So what would he say to her? You owed me more? That much was obvious. For as much as she’d thought it might help him (and Harry knew better than to believe Petunia really was that stupid), once he’d gone to Hogwarts she could have changed track, made some attempt to tell him who his mother was. It was strange. He wanted her to do him a favor- give him this valuable thing he’d never had- and the reason he asked it, the family obligation, was something Harry had never wanted from her. Still didn’t, beyond what little closure it could offer him.

Worst case scenario she’d say no. She would say no, and that would be that.

Harry went back to the building to use the pay phone. “Got to tell him we’ll be there tomorrow.”

Louisiana’s elevation made it a prime candidate for casinos, apparently, and since they were only three hours away from Dallas it seemed like a good a way as any to meet their tourist attraction quota. American casinos were very different from the ones that dotted every odd corner in London. True to their word, they were huge. Harry and Draco dropped their bags in the hotel part of the building and headed back down to the main gambling space, a massive open room stinking of cigarette smoke and wasted hours.

“Can’t tell if it’s awful or brilliant,” Draco said.

A waiter approached. “Drinks, gentlemen?”

“No, thanks,” Harry said.

“Bar’s over there,” the waiter said with a nod, and strode off.

“Which of our ideas was this?” Draco asked.

“Dunno. Seems like a great distraction, though.”

“Doesn’t it?” Draco made for the nearest slot machine.

“Careful, I don’t want to lose you,” Harry said, speeding after him.

“Sweet.”

“We’re still in Louisiana,” Harry said under his breath.

“Right. I’d forgotten. I’ll watch my language, of course.” Draco put a few coins in the machine and started it. “Damn. Can’t give me luck on the first try, can they?”

Despite his starting out poor, Draco began to do quite well. Harry made a few halfhearted tries on the machine next to Draco’s, but his losing was a lot less fun than watching Draco draw the suspicion of everyone within a twelve-foot radius.

When Draco was twenty dollars ahead, Harry said, “Come on. Get out while you’re ahead. Not to mention I think one of the bouncers is watching now.”

“Eugh,” Draco said. “No fun, honestly.” But he cashed out. “Where to now?”

Harry leaned in. “Take me back to the room, buy me a ridiculously expensive drink, and see if Blaise’s suggestion works?”

“I think I’m more likely to fall asleep after ingesting alcohol, but I will not have it said I didn’t try.” Draco stood, gave him the look that translated to ‘only a cruel world would not let me touch you right now,’ and led the way upstairs.

“Fucking hell,” Harry said the second the door shut, and smashed his face to Draco’s.

After a few moments of truly disgusting snogging, Draco said, “Ow. Glasses.”

“M’not taking them off.”

“I know, just be careful.”

“Careful takes time, and I’m too tired for that.”

“Fine, then,” Draco said, already stripping.

Two days too late- or maybe three- fucking themselves to sleep worked.

Harry got up first. The clock said eight thirty; Draco was still completely passed out, twisted in blankets, one ass-cheek in the wind. Harry threw a blanket over him and went to peer outside. He got a nice view of the parking lot, the highway, and a morning light a bit more intense than he was used to.

By the time he was out of the shower Draco was up. Harry entered the room to find him standing around naked, snacking on one of the things they had from the road. “Going to feed me?”

“Just get room service,” Harry advised.

Draco picked up the menu and flipped through it. “We never did get alcohol last night, you know? Maybe better we didn’t. These prices seem unreasonable.”

“We’ve set aside enough for this,” Harry said with a stretch and a yawn. His towel fell off. “Bugger.”

“Not yet. I’m hungry.” Draco made for the bathroom.

“Ha-fucking-ha, what do you want, then? Tell me and they’ll bring it up while you shower.”

“Do Americans have tea and toast?”

Thirty minutes later someone knocked on the door. Harry, now wearing pajama bottoms, opened it to admit an expressionless uniformed man carrying an overloaded breakfast tray. Harry slipped him Draco’s victory twenty and set to laying everything out. As soon as the door shut, Draco called, “Is it safe?”

“Yes. Though you might want to wear pants, I can’t guarantee my bed-making skills.”

“What does that even mean?” Draco emerged from a cloud of steam to find the breakfast food laid out on the desk and bed- not all of it had fit on the tray. “Ah. Wouldn’t want to spill on my shiny clean skin. More food than we could possibly eat in one go? Why, darling, that’s exactly what I wanted.”

“I got an American breakfast, which I think was roughly fifteen pounds, and pancakes. They're a breakfast food here.”

“Yes, I know.” Draco pulled on a pair of boxers and sat cross-legged on the bed. He took a bite of eggs and frowned. “I know I need the protein, but really, I’d much rather just have bread.”

“They sent a pot of water,” Harry said, passing Draco a full cup. “What kind of teabag d’you want? There’s four.”

“The proper English kind.”

Harry chucked him a breakfast one and turned to make his own tea.

“What time did you tell your cousin we were coming?”

“Evening,” Harry said. “Damn. Did you want coffee?”

Draco glared at him. “Do I want to severely compromise my palette with subpar dirt water?”

“S’what I thought.” Harry took a sip of his tea. “Not done, but not bad.”

“It’s acceptable,” Draco said. “These pancakes are fantastic though.”

Between them they did eat most of the food. Harry was feeling satisfied and refreshed. If he was lucky there wouldn’t even be an emotional outburst today. “That wasn’t worth forty pounds, but it was good.”

“Value is relative.” Draco was munching a piece of toast. Harry often wondered where Draco put it all; scrawny though Harry had been once, Mrs. Weasley’s and Hogwarts’s combined efforts had finally filled him out. Draco, on the other hand, remained borderline too slim no matter how many cupcakes he taste-tested. “What time should we leave?”

“It’s hardly ten. We’ve got time.”

“He lives north of the city?”

Harry nodded. “Think we have to drive through it to get up there.”

“Do you want to stop there?”

Harry grimaced. “No.” The peace of the past 16 carefree hours was wearing off. Anxiety flooded in to replace it. “Kind of nervous already. And it’s a host’s job, isn’t it, to show people their city?”

Draco nodded. “Alright. You don’t want to leave, yet, though, do you?”

“We’ll be too early.”

Draco leaned close, so their noses were almost touching. “Do you want a distraction?”

“If it keeps you from calling Blaise,” Harry said, and pulled him into a kiss.

When they finally made it on the road, Harry was feeling anxious enough to puke. Flooded back in about twenty minutes post-orgasm. Draco decided it’d be better for him to drive. Harry couldn’t stop jittering his leg.

All the thinking Harry could have done about the situation had been done already; now there was only the thing itself. He’d never been fond of waiting. Should have known better than to plan a drive. Still. It was kind of nice, lounging around a hotel room for hours. They'd had enough time for a ticking clock not to intrude, at least. Didn’t need to worry about being on time to show up somewhere unfamiliar on top of his being tempted to ask Draco to pull over every five seconds just so he could scream into some corn fields.

More than before, the drive through acres of farmland comprised a slow sort of torture. The first two days the landscape had been unfamiliar enough to at least be interesting. Now that Harry knew only more of the same lay ahead, the novelty had worn off. At the fifty-minute mark he couldn’t take it anymore. “Pull over, would you?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Next exit. Maybe a Mars bar’ll help.”

Draco took the next exit with a visible gas station. There were only a few other cars there. Draco offered to get petrol; Harry nodded and went into the station.

The only person inside was the clerk. He glanced up at Harry’s arrival, but said nothing. Harry started weaving the shelves, wondering if restless energy was better expended with candy bars or chewing gum. Time passed. Bell on the door rang to signal Draco coming in. Harry looked over his shoulder. “Bathroom.” Draco nodded and started to browse himself.

Being in a small space with a lock on the door didn’t make him feel good. It didn’t make him feel safe. His hands were shaking. He undid the lock and opened the door to find Draco standing, waiting. Harry stepped aside, let him in, locked the door behind him.

He was in Draco’s arms. “Shh,” he said, soothing.

Harry hadn’t said anything. It was just what you said. When someone was panicking like that. Like this, he reminded himself. He was still shaking.

“It’s alright.” They were too far to turn back. Draco knew it, knew that the suggestion of fucking off on some northbound highway would make Harry feel worse instead of better. “It’ll be alright, my love.”

Harry took a breath, glanced at the door handle. “Quiet. Clerk’ll fucking hear us.”

“I can cast something.”

“I don’t want to be away from you.”

“You won’t be.” Draco said it with so much conviction it sounded like a prayer.

But he was wrong, Harry knew. The first few weeks they were together they had waited it out, acknowledging the insanity and intensity but knowing it was too fragile a thing not to be kept secret, at least in the beginning. They could have been wrong, one of them could have snapped, and then all the trouble of telling everyone would be for nothing. So they waited. A secret game played with the word ‘friend’ and sidelong glances, Flooing straight to each other’s flats and passing hours talking in the comfort and safety of a disheveled bed. It had been terrifying and exciting to tell people- terrifying because what if Ron yelled or Hermione laughed, exciting because he could grab Draco’s hand in the street as a way of saying, ‘mine.’

Except once they told people, a whole different chasm of carefulness opened up. Because for as tolerant as the wizarding world and the city had become, Harry knew it was not safe to hold Draco’s hand in the wrong place.

This was that. This was not being nervous until his family was comfortable- it was knowing that if you made the wrong move someone might respond with a fist, or a knife, or god forbid in America a gun. All the comfort and safety they’d built in their places, at their jobs and their families’ houses and their street and their flat, had been stripped away in an instant. Now all Harry had was this- stolen closed-door moments and looks that didn’t feel the same when the secret wasn’t fun, but necessary.

Eventually he stopped shaking, and Draco held his face and told him he loved him and everything was alright and they were going to buy a bunch of awfully unhealthy snacks to hide in their room in case Dudley and Penelope were both terrible cooks. They loaded up on food, paid, and got on the road again.

Except as soon as he started the car Draco reached into the bag and pulled a CD from it. At Harry’s curious gaze, “Knew you wouldn’t want to talk, probably, and if I hear another song about guns and trucks and Jesus I might actually go insane.”

About five seconds in, Harry said, “Are you serious?”

“What? I’ve never heard the rest of them on here, have you? And it’s not like he isn’t-”

“No,” Harry said with a laugh. “I like it. I just...” he shook his head, smiled.

_Seamstress for the band/Pretty-eyed pirate smile/You’ll marry a music man._

Draco came in on the next line. Harry wasn’t far behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from Tiny Dancer by Elton John (and Bernie Taupin)


	3. Chapter 3

They pulled up to the house on a clear Thursday evening. It was five, sunset on its way. Back at home they’d be in bed, asleep, in the proper time zone and not worrying about giving a shit about people they’d never met. Well. Worried maybe was a stretch, but still.

After an interlude of Christian talk radio, they’d been through the album one more time; then Harry had to take out the map, because they finally needed to make turns and pay attention to signs again. Dudley’s family lived in a nice subdivision, one with sprawling brick houses that had small yards but put Privet Drive’s square footage to shame.

“What did you say your cousin did?” Draco asked as they rolled down a window.

“Accounting for someone. This is Barrow, right?”

“Yep.”

“He’s 2306.”

“Hang on-” Draco crawled past one more house, two, and came to a stop. “It’s this one.”

It was on the right side of the street, set back a good way from the pavement even though the houses here had garages in back. Like most of the others it was all brick, two stories, looming over modest but neat landscaping, two young trees, and a stone-clad portico. As far as single-family homes went, it was bigger than anything they’d see in London short maybe of an old Hampstead row house. “How many of our places d’you think could fit?” Harry asked.

“Three. Easily. Maybe four.”

“Is square meterage something that comes up in friendly conversation?”

“With muggles? Maybe. I’ve only ever known rich-person jargon for houses, and they tend to judge homes by how many kitchens they have.”

“The Manor has more than one kitchen?”

“It has three. There were five, at one point, but that was when the place was at full capacity.”

Harry looked back at Dudley’s house. “How many kitchens, d’you reckon?”

“It is America, but these are relatively normal people, so... one and a half? Kitchen and a bar?”

Harry sighed and sat back in his seat.

“Are you alright?”

“Of course not. But I’ll be fine.” He took a deep breath. “We should go in.”

“Are you ready?” Draco’s eyes were doing that hard, searching thing they did when he wasn’t entirely sure Harry wasn’t about to lie to him even though both of them knew he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of doing it successfully.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Should we bring our luggage?”

“He’s not my cousin.”

“No, we shouldn’t,” Harry said. “Wait until we’ve spoken a few minutes. See if they insist. Expect space won’t be an issue, at any rate.”

Draco laughed. “No.”

The two of them got out of the car. They decided to bring one shoulder bag between them, in case Blaise called, though Blaise probably wouldn’t call; Harry also had some stupid gifts he wanted to give everybody because if there was one thing he knew about visiting people it was never to do it empty-handed.

At the door Harry froze, uncertain whether to knock or ring. Friends knocked, he knew, but what if they were in some other part of the house?

Draco leaned around him and knocked for him.

The silence stretched.

Dudley opened the door.

He was like the person Harry remembered, but not like him at all. His height and build were the same, though he looked fitter and better-balanced. The mean confusion around his eyes was gone, replaced by a placid expectation with more than a hint of anxiety in it. His hair was trimmed, he wore a t-shirt and jeans with no shoes, and he looked for all the world like he was relieved this moment had finally come.

So was Harry. “Hey,” he said.

“Good to see you,” Dudley said, and hugged him.

Harry was shocked. Not too shocked to hug back and say, “You too.”

“It’s chilly, come in.” Dudley stood back to let them through, extending a hand when Harry stepped passed him. “Draco, right?”

“And you’re Dudley. Good to meet you.”

Dudley smiled. It was different from any smile Harry could ever remember seeing him wear; not triumphant or greedy, but tentative, hesitant. Very much changed. “Good to have another accent around here. Speaking of which, sorry- Penny!” He yelled this upstairs, which was visible via an overlook into the entryway.

A voice drifted down, a little high-pitched but tempered by a remarkably different accent, “What is it, Dud? They can’t be here, it’s only- Oh. Hello.” Penelope, Dudley’s wife, had come to the railing. She blinked, caught her breath, and then was barreling down the stairs to catch Harry in another unexpected hug, this one much stronger than he would have imagined given the slightness of her frame. “It’s so good to see you! Dud’s said so much about you!”

Harry resisted the urge to ask. “Thanks. You too. Thanks for having us come.”

“Absolutely.” Penny leaned away, arms on Harry’s shoulders, and gave him a once over. Harry took the chance to do the same, taking in her compact height and her strawberry blonde hair and the way enthusiasm seemed to emanate from her face even as it shifted to a sympathetic expression. “You’re just like he said. Silly family wasn’t much for pictures, were they?”

“No,” Harry said, shock renewed by all her tone implied. She knew, she must’ve known it all, Dudley had told her. He’d told Harry he’d told her, hadn’t he? “Er, this is Draco, my, ah-”

“Pleasure to meet you!” Penny was already hugging him.

For his part, Draco was taking it all in stride. He looked both amused and fully prepared to steer the conversation in whatever direction would be easiest for Harry, should he need the assistance. “And you! We’ve needed this vacation for ages. It’s so good to have family here.”

“Yes! I’ve wanted to see London, but we never seem to have the chance to go, and it’s so much harder with the whole family being here…” Penny eased off, then, compassionate. Christ she must have been good for Dudley. “Ella’s at a playdate, but I’m sure you’ll get to meet her later. It’s her friend from school’s fifth birthday and her parents got a bouncy house- you know how it goes.”

All of them just stood there for a second, four people with no clue how to relate to each other.

Of course, Penny was an absolute angel, because she said, “Where are my manners? Come in, please. Take your shoes off if you like. We can sit here in the living room or go to the family room if you want TV, or actually- you know, it might be best to go back there so we can keep an eye on dinner.”

The three of them followed her down the hall into the kitchen, which had a counter with barstools overlooking a cozy family room with a big fireplace. Harry’d been a little distracted upon entering the house, but with a second to look around he saw the place was warmly decorated. It felt like a lived-in home rather than a giant, generic place. It was neat, but things were strewn around, suggestions of who lived there- a worn red sweater, three dolls with tangled hair, a pair of slippers kicked off near the sofa. “How long have you been here?” Harry took the barstool on the end and was followed by Dudley, then Draco. What a strange trio they must make.

“Two years. We were with my parents for a while with Ella, but now I have my job and we’re both done with school it didn’t make sense to wait.”

“Where did you go?” Draco asked.

“Texas Wesleyan,” they both said at once.

“I’ve got a degree in marketing, and Dud went for accounting.”

“Accounting, huh?” Harry asked, turning to his cousin.

Dudley looked embarrassed. “I was good at maths. It was the only thing I was good at, mind, but Penny helped me out. Never would’ve passed everything without her.”

“Oh, stop. You would’ve got it eventually.” Penny was bouncing around the kitchen in a whirlwind manner coincident with her attitude thus far. After three days of near-constant dread Harry found it quite refreshing. “Ella’s already good at math. Might be an accountant like her daddy, though we’re tryin’ to get her to aim higher.”

“Penny’s dad’s an actuary,” Dudley explained.

“What-” Draco started.

“Statistics. They’re the ones who do the figures for insurance companies.”

“Ah. Dealt a lot with insurance, lately.”

“You’re opening a shop, Harry said?”

“A café. He’s going to keep books in it eventually, but I don’t know whether he’ll be selling them or hoarding them.”

Dudley glanced at Harry. “Thought you were more of a troublemaker than a reader.”

“I was. Still am, if you ask the right person. What’s for dinner?”

“I thought we could do Tex-Mex, ‘cause that’s pretty much the most popular thing to eat around here and I know if you’ve never had it before you won’t have anythin’ else to compare it to so ours bein’ pretty good won’t be a disappointment.”

Harry laughed.

“Do you need any help?” Draco asked.

“What? Oh, no, honey. Everything’s pretty much done.” Penny slid a large dish into the oven. “There. Now we just wait. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” Dudley started.

“It’s fine, sweetheart. You did most of the cooking anyway, I can do this. We’ve got water, soda, sweet tea?”

“Water’s fine,” Harry said. He had yet to try the southern beverage and was still reluctant to do so.

Draco, on the other hand, replied, “Tea, please. We’ve got a running bet about whether coffee or tea’s better, so I have to do my research.”

“You on the tea side?” Penny asked, opening the fridge.

“Not at all.”

“You and I’ll get along then.” Penny placed a glass of tea in front of him and a glass of water in front of Harry. “I work for a coffee company. Do all the marketing for them. Design ads, merchandise, tell the store owners when they need to move their specials signs, things like that. I can take you by and show you how it works on the inside. Though I’m sure you’ve done your research already.”

“That would be wonderful,” Draco said. “Are there any plans for while we’re here?”

“We should be asking you that,” Dudley said. “Anything you want to do?”

“Not really,” Harry said. “We already saw some countryside on the drive. Take him to a museum or two and he’ll be happy. We’re just… here to see family, really.”

“Y’all are so sweet,” Penny said. “My cousins and I fight like feral cats, and we’re all completely grown. You might meet a few of ‘em while you’re here. How long were you wanting to stay?”

“We’re not sure,” Harry said. “Sort of just planned the time off and thought we’d wing it.”

“Should we go out and grab the rest of y’all’s bags?”

Harry looked at Dudley and Draco in turn. “Um-”

“We wouldn’t want to put you out,” Draco said.

“Nonsense, we have a guest room and there’s no decent hotels around here. Not to mention the whole point is us gettin’ to know each other. You didn’t book a place, did you?” she added, tone half-worried, half-deadly.

Harry shook his head. Staying with her might turn out to be more like staying in the greater Weasley house than he’d thought.

Penny and Dudley insisted on carrying their bags, and once they were inside they were shown upstairs to a guest room that was spotlessly clean and had its own bathroom. Their hosts went to let them settle in, said dinner would be ready soon, and promised to let them know the second Ella was dropped home.

Harry spent what felt like two whole minutes staring at the door before Draco shook his shoulder. “Hey. Snap out of it, yeah? Alright?”

Harry turned to face him. “I don’t know. I just had a perfectly pleasant conversation with Dudley and his wife, and now we’re sleeping in their house.”

“You knew they’d offer. Again, that is.”

“So?” Harry sat on the bed. “It’s weird.” He looked around the room, noting the warm beige walls, the night light in the bathroom, and the untucked blankets. “Penelope’s an absolute darling.”

“Isn’t she?” Draco unzipped one of the bags and took out the toiletries. “I mean, talk about smoothing over a situation, Merlin’s beard.”

Harry smiled. “You not going to swear around them?”

“Well here in our room of course I fucking am, but generally it’s considered bad manners-”

Harry grabbed his hand, pulled him down next to him. “Draco Malfoy is nothing if not well-mannered.”

“Absolutely. But you didn’t answer my question. Are you alright?” Draco dropped the bag he was holding and put his free hand on Harry’s, so he was holding it in both.

“I told you, it’s weird.”

“Not much of an answer.”

Harry tried again. “I’m fine.”

Draco exhaled the slightest of sighs. “You know I can tell you’re lying?”

Harry smiled grimly and squeezed his hand. “I don’t know what it’s going to be. So far not bad. I don’t want to say I expected bad, I just-”

“Thought it’d be harder in a different way so this standard distant family fare is throwing you off?”

Harry made an exasperated sound. “You’d think you were the one who reads too much, honestly.”

Draco moved his thumb, making soothing circles against the heel of Harry’s hand. “So are you alright for now?”

“Yes.”

“You want to go back downstairs?”

“Yes.”

Draco kissed his forehead and stood.

Harry let himself be pulled up. “Think we could hold hands?”

“Maybe later.” At Harry’s disbelieving expression, “I want to be obnoxious as much as you do, but we don’t even know if she knows we’re wizards yet.” Not that she didn’t absolutely know they were together, but ‘obnoxious’ was more to the point.

“Think she does. Think Dudley will’ve told her.”

“Really?” Draco pulled open the door.

“Really,” Harry said. He hadn’t been around them very long; even so, the few glances he’d seen them exchange had spoken volumes, impossible though their meaning may be for him to interpret.

They passed the next half an hour in pleasant small talk. When it was just past six, they heard a car pull up, and Penny said, “You all just wait here,” and rushed outside to collect Ella.

“She wants to say thank you and also make sure Mrs. Lin doesn’t try to get into our house,” Dudley explained. When Harry looked askance at this, “Mrs. Lin hates cooking and is very good at timing drop-offs.”

“Ah,” Harry said. “Know a few people with the same talent.”

“Auntie Andie won’t let Hermione in unless she’s been invited,” Draco said under his breath. Then, “There’s a cousin of mine- I think fifth or sixth cousin of Harry’s, too, maybe- raises her grandson. He’s six. Seven?”

“Teddy is five and a half,” Harry supplied.

“That’s only a year older than-”

“Daddy I am HOME!”

Dudley’s polite interest turned into real, pure happiness. The kind that made Harry nauseous when Ron and Hermione did it to each other but melted him when they did it around Rose. “How was the party?”

“It was excellent.” A small, vibrant person strutted into the room. Based on her slightly reddish-tinted hair, her sparkling personality, and the fact she was approximately three feet tall, Harry guessed this was Ella. “I got a goody bag and a cupcake.”

Before any of them could ask a follow-up question, Ella marched up to Draco and Harry, now sitting on neighboring barstools, and stuck out her hand. “It is nice to meet you. Uncle Draco,” He was closer and Ella was right, “Uncle Harry.” After shaking both of their hands, Ella said, “I have to wash up for dinner,” and bolted for the stairs.

“You be careful Ella-Mae!”

“Yes, Mommy.” The proceeding footsteps and door noises were significantly gentler-sounding.

Harry stared at the dust she had left in her wake, smiling in a half-amused, half-terrified sort of way. “Alright.”

“Alright is right,” Penny said. “Baby, will you set the table?” Dudley got up. Harry got up to follow, but Penny said, “Sit. You are guests and you have to be here at least a week before I let you help.”

Harry did as he was bid.

The food really was good, though Harry had no idea how much of it was Dudley’s work and how much Penny’s; she gave him the credit for the preparations, but she seemed intent on doing all the host work. Harry had a feeling this was more about respect for Dudley’s feelings than some heteronormative imperative. Dinner conversation bounced between normal topics and elaborate retellings of Ella’s most recent adventures. Just last week she’d scared her babysitter half to death jumping off the playground equipment, which reminded Penny of the time Ella had learned the word ‘protest’ and decided to protest bedtime.

“And I just said, sweetie, I admire your determination, but you’re not allowed to protest until you’re at least sixteen or twelve with an adult. And then she told me ‘thirteen is too many years,’ and I knew we’d better put her in Montessori school, because if she did that in a regular daycare they would not know what to do with her.”

“What is Montessori school?” Draco asked.

“It’s like preschool, but they teach ‘em things from all different subjects so that when they go to kindergarten they don’t have to start from scratch. Daycare and Grandma’s house were alright, we just thought if we can afford it best give her everything we can.”

“Wouldn’t want a little me,” Dudley said.

“Sweetheart you are too hard on yourself. Your parents were- well, I hate to say it, but they were not the greatest influence on you.”

Harry choked on his enchilada. “Sorry.” He took a sip of water. Then, on a whim, “We’re going to speak after dinner, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dudley said. “Absolutely.”

“Draco and I can read Ella a bedtime story and then he can teach me how to make sugar cookies without settin’ the kitchen on fire.”

“Cookies? Can I have cookies?”

“They won’t be ready ‘til tomorrow, Ella. If you go to bed when you’re supposed to I’ll let you have one after breakfast.”

“Yesss.”

After slapping Harry’s hands away from the dishes and accepting Draco’s help “just this once, don’t you dare try it again,” Penny shooed Dudley and Harry away. “Go talk in the office. Nice and quiet in there.”

Then, because a four-year-old did not accept no cookies ‘til tomorrow without a fight, “What if I stay up for just one hour and then I can make the cookies with you?”

Dudley and Harry left that negotiation behind. Dudley led the way to a small office near the front of the house. It was simply furnished with big windows and two bookcases in the corner opposite the door. There was a desk, but there were also two armchairs; Dudley closed the door and took the right one, Harry the left. Sitting made Harry aware of just how much anxiety he’d wound up during dinner, and he tried to relax.

It didn’t work.

“I’m sorry,” Dudley said. He was looking pretty tense himself.

Harry shook his head. “What for?”

“That,” Dudley nodded to the door. “It’s a lot. They’re a lot.”

“No,” Harry said matter-of-factly, “Draco’s a lot.”

“Seems a decent bloke.”

“Well, he is, just… give him a cup of coffee, then you’ll understand.” After a moment, “You know, you really don’t need to apologize. You’ve already done that, and this… this is more than I ever would have expected, so thanks.”

“Please. Least I could do is be decent to you now.” There it was, the return of that rougher edge that had been hidden under the softer version of himself Dudley had become.

“No, I- I didn’t expect- well, you didn’t have to, you know? Invite us here, take us in, and… be stupid of me not to bring it up, really, so- _accept_ both of us. When I know you spent most of your life thinking everything I was was wrong anyway, so-”

“Don’t,” Dudley said, meeting his eyes, meaning it. “Don’t do that. I said you were welcome to come and I meant it. Both of you are welcome. After the past few years, I just- I can’t know all that is out there, you, wizards, whatever, the world at large, and not think being gay’s not just as reasonable as being Christian.”

“You know, one can be both.”

“Right.” His sincere, if embarrassed blush got a little deeper at that.

“And I’m not, for the record. M’bisexual.”

“Oh.”

“S’alright. Not really a precedent for this sort of thing. Mostly it’s just a shitty game of chance how people will react and then trying to convince them it doesn’t actually mean anything.”

“Right.”

A beat. Then, “Does she know?”

“Who, Penny? About- yeah, of course she knows, I wouldn’t- believe it or not I try to be a good person,” Dudley said with a small smile. “And I’ve looked it up and been told the restriction on the dissemination of whatever isn’t as bad here, either.”

It occurred to Harry that his question could have been interpreted very differently, so he asked, “What about Ella?”

“What about her?”

Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, you mean the, er- the bisexual thing. Well, I mean, it isn’t as if we’d lie to her, apart from the magic, which is much too complicated to tell her anyway, and- yeah. Yeah, we, erm- we told her not to talk about it at school, not- I mean- we don’t want to confuse her.”

“Confuse-?”

“Oh, no,” Dudley said quickly, raising his hands. “I meant- god I’m bad at this- she can talk about you, of course she can, we just said not to tell people you were together, because some people are very mean about it and say it’s not in the bible and things.”

Harry cocked his head. “Is Montessori school religious?”

“No. Texas is.”

Harry cracked half a smile. “Did you have to convert?”

Dudley laughed. “Oh, god, no. I can’t say ‘god’ in front of Penny and Ella because it’s bad manners, but when it’s just Penny I don’t think she minds. Her family is religious, church on Sunday, that sort of thing, she just doesn’t- sometimes we go with them.”

“And she’s okay? About-?”

“Yes! Absolutely. She was the one who talked to Ella about you, mostly. I’m not good at- well, at explaining much of anything. S’why I like numbers so much.”

“Right,” Harry said. Now that he’d determined there was no ill will between anybody regarding the more obvious of his socially-questionable traits, “How does Penny feel? About the magic thing?”

“She’s alright. Mainly she’s worried about confusing Ella and not breaking the restrictions.”

“She believes you?”

“Well- someone from their no-maj liaison office came over, and I figured it’d be best to read her in. Didn’t really show us anything, just- she trusts me,” Dudley said with a shrug.

“You’ve really got a good one,” Harry said.

“Yeah. So do you.”

Harry realized he had finally relaxed in his chair. And that there was only one question left that even meant anything. “Why did you come here?”

Dudley smiled a bit, like he heard that a lot, then looked off, thought a moment, looked back. “I did it to get away from my dad.”

That was not the answer Harry had been expecting. “Really?”

“Well, that wasn’t the only reason. But it was one of them. If I didn’t move away he’d have made me follow him, and I didn’t know if I could. If I wanted to. After...” Dudley shook his head, held Harry’s eyes. “After everything.”

“You wanted your own life.”

“Yeah. Exactly. Just took me longer to figure it out than you did.”

Harry snorted. “Right.”

“Well, you did figure it out, didn’t you? The second you knew there was something other than Privet Drive.”

Harry sighed. Hadn’t known they’d be getting into this tonight, but he may as well. Not like it mattered anymore, like there was anything else even left to share. “Look, Dudley… I don’t think there’s any way to say this that’s better, so I’ll just say it. It wasn’t mine. My life. Wasn’t mine to live until after the war. Which, yeah, there was one, spent all of school looking forward to it. Not that I knew, really, until I was older.”

Dudley opened his mouth, shut it. Harry knew the expression well- what was there to say?

“I don’t expect a response or anything, you’re not- apart from summers, our lives were more different than you might think. It’s just- I’m still a person. As long as your family wasn’t in danger they wouldn’t have cared, but-”

Recognition on his face, understanding. “Mum did.”

Harry stared at him.

“She did. I know she had a fucked way of showing it, but she… she knew the danger we were all in. Just being around you. I don’t know what the letter said, the one they left with you. She never told me that. But she did say that when it was necessary she wrote him back. Dumbledore.”

And Harry’d been reluctant to mention the war. Well. Petunia may as well’ve told him. One better than she’d ever done for Harry. He breathed a laugh. “Talk about just a person.”

“That’s it, isn’t it? Know now what we didn’t before. Adults: they’re just like us.” Dudley said with a halfhearted smile.

“You don’t need to make excuses for her. I want you to know whatever you want to know, it was happening under your nose the whole time, but- the only person who owes me any explanations is her.”

Dudley huffed a laugh. “You think you owe me an explanation? By all accounts I had a perfect life. It wasn’t, I know it, you know it, I’m not still stupid enough to underestimate you and think you don’t. It was a good life, though. Much better than yours.”

Harry shrugged. “Fine now. Under all that shite I really was just a normal person. Kind of nice, getting to finally be one.”

Dudley’s expression turned sincere. “You’ll stay?”

“’Course we will. In another world we may have been like brothers, you know?”

Dudley snorted. “Right. Exactly. Brothers who were pitted against each other by their parents in some twisted competition for affection.”

“Bet you would’ve beat me at maths. Wasn’t even required at Hogwarts.”

Dudley groaned. “And you’re going to run a business?”

“Don’t worry, he’s rich. Or his family’s rich. Plus I’ve never been stupid with money, and now we’re friends I can always call you for advice.”

“Long as you’re paying the long-distance fees.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is done except for editing I will post regularly please do not be afraid of involvement I would never do you like that

Penny had not promised Ella the grownups wouldn’t eat cookies, a fact she underscored by forcing Harry and Dudley to eat some before they all retired to their respective bedrooms. Harry and Draco thanked them again for hosting them and headed upstairs. No sooner had Harry shut the door behind them than Draco was inches away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. No, I’m _good_ ,” Harry said with a laugh.

“Good?”

“Yes. Good.” Harry relayed the conversation. And how, despite his growing confusion regarding the morass of Petunia-related emotions, he felt pretty good about staying in general.

“Wow,” Draco said. Both of them were sitting on the bed by then, pajama-clad, though Draco was on the end rather than his side and looked like he’d be up doing something a while before actually falling asleep. He turned to Harry. “She just trusts him?”

“Apparently. No way of knowing what the liaison officer told them.” Harry wriggled around to get his legs under the blanket with as little change in position as he could. He’d already sank into the mattress a little and doubted he’d last five minutes once the lights were off. “I’m more surprised nobody cares about our being gay, to be honest.”

“You’re not gay.”

Harry shrugged.

“And I thought- well- we did make sure it’d be alright, didn’t we?” Some of that concern back, same as when they’d been about to go into the hotel.

Harry sighed. “I made sure it’d be alright. I was never in doubt on it, actually. Was you who tried to get me to use the phone instead of muggle post and when I refused you opened an envelope, wasting all those stamps-”

“I don’t think a few pence warrants this much outrage. You should have called.”

Harry laughed again. “And said what? Don’t think we could have had that conversation anywhere but in person. And neither of us is good at talking. Same emotionally twisted house, remember?”

“Right.” Draco sighed and rested a hand on Harry’s calf. “Well. Penny said Dudley had told her all about us and they’d done their research just to make everyone comfortable and offered to let us ward the house if we wanted.”

“ _Jesus_. What did they say to her?”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “Dunno. What’d Dudley say to her?”

“Not much, I don’t think. I mean, it’s clear they’ve discussed this-” Harry flailed a hand between them, “-extensively, but I honestly think they’re more worried about making sure Ella has a foundational understanding of homophobia than whether or not we do a spot of magic ‘round the house when no one’s looking.”

“Yes.” Draco smacked his leg. “That’s it. The welcoming spirit must have been about the gay thing. And magic, obviously, but I think she was implying that on the slight chance we didn’t feel safe she’d have no problem with us using magic to resolve that.”

“Pretty residential. And I don’t plan on snogging you on the front lawn, so-” Harry shrugged. “She knew what wards were?”

“Well, apparently, the no-maj liaison officer explained that this all goes on unnoticed by most people and he didn’t really expect her to take it at face value, but I think he might have told her that they’d ward the house if she liked? Actually, I think he might have explained who you are? Or Dudley did? You said he knows about Voldemort, right?”

“A bit. Enough to forgive his mum for hating me.” Which, come to think of it, Harry could sort of understand. Petunia had done what she was bid- kept him safe- even if his well-being was neglected more often than was remotely reasonable. Anyone’d be upset about putting their family in the crosshairs of that kind of danger. Spite was logical- they all could’ve died because of Harry. More people whose blood may or may not be on his hands, great. “Guess that makes sense. She knew more of what was going on, just her, I’ll bet, and it was even harder for her to deal with it all because she couldn’t tell anyone. Dudley was too young, Vernon would’ve blown up, and I…” Harry laughed. “I was too young to understand. Sure she was glad when Dumbledore told her that one. Your nephew’s in grave danger and may put your family in the crossfire, but you’re his only hope of staying alive and also he can’t know any of this? Can’t imagine she’d have liked to have that discussion. Probably still would’ve tried not to tell Vernon.”

“You think he didn’t know? The extent, I mean?”

Harry shrugged. “I’ve got no idea. His attitude makes sense either way. One hand I was a danger to his family and keeping me appeased his wife- which is really hard to get my head around- other hand he was doing his one good deed and the threat was never real to him because he didn’t want to hear about it.” Harry laughed. “And I thought I’d be sleeping tonight.”

Draco leaned closer. “You will be. Your cousin’s happy to have you and so is his wife. They don’t care we’re wizards and they don’t care we’re two men shagging. As for everything else-”

“Can’t change the past?”

“Can’t change the past,” Draco said, and kissed his forehead. “Alright if I read a while?”

“Read aloud?”

Draco smiled. “Fiction or nonfiction?”

“Fiction, please, I don’t want to hear about how beans grown south of the equator taste better because of the angle of the sun-”

Draco read, and Harry slept.

Harry awoke to find Draco sat fully up with the coffee book in his lap. He also had a cup of the stuff steaming in his left hand. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Harry said. Clock read eight. “Why are you up so early?”

“S’not early.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. He was pretty sure they hadn’t got upstairs ‘til ten, and that was before the extensive conversations about- well, everything. They can’t’ve got more than eight hours max.

“Okay, it’s not _that_ early,” Draco amended, setting his book face-open on the bed. “Unfortunately for you I’ll be getting up early to help the baker for at least the first four months, and I may just keep at it since cafes have to be open for all the before-work business.”

Harry peered warily at the coffee. “Did you go and make that?”

“No. Penny brought it up.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up.

“There was some commotion about Ella not wanting to go to school- they left a half hour ago- and Penny came to check and make sure we weren’t awake, but of course I already was, so she offered to bring me coffee and promised it’d be good and it is.” Draco smiled and took a sip. “South of the equator, if I had to guess.”

Harry looked between Draco and the door. “She wasn’t weird?”

“No. Believe it or not, there is a kind and compassionate Texan Christian woman who does not bat an eye at blatant evidence of sound sleep.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re probably right. You’re right. I’m sorry. I just keep expecting things to go wrong somehow. Haven’t got over the fact that they probably won’t. Least not without fair warning this time.”

“Your pessimism disappoints me.”

“Pessimism?”

“You said ‘probably.’ Things won’t go wrong period. If they start to we’ll find the nearest Holiday Inn and camp out until they leave.”

Harry grinned. “Who’s ‘they’?”

Draco shrugged. “Could be anyone. No one who lives in this house, though.”

Harry placed a hand on his shoulder in acknowledgment of the point, then went to pee.

They decided to air on the side of caution and get dressed, since it was still technically a weekday, and it was better to be safe than sorry.

Only Dudley, who had taken off on account of the special occasion, was sat at the table still in pajamas. “Damn,” he said when he saw them. “I’m resident bum.”

“Doesn’t count if it’s your day off. Or the weekend. Lucky for you it’s both.” Draco went to pour himself cup number two. Harry pulled out the chair next to Dudley.

Though Dudley looked surprised at this seating choice, he didn’t comment on it; he went back to reading the paper, or, more accurately, doing the crossword in it.

Draco caught sight of this and sat on Dudley’s other side. “How many left?”

“Five. Though I don’t think we’d know any of them. Have to ask Penny when she gets back.”

“American things?”

“Yeah.” Dudley set the crossword down and looked up. “Sleep well?”

“Very,” Draco assured him.

“So we won’t need to ward the house, then?”

Harry let out a low whistle. “Jesus, your statute of secrecy’s good.”

“That what they call it back home?”

Harry nodded. “Think it’s gotten better since the war, now we’re not all looking over our shoulders, but it’s still nowhere near as lax as yours.”

Dudley shrugged. “American spirit. Come to think of it, that liaison officer may or may not have worked for the American government.”

“Explains why she believed you,” Draco said.

“Just do something simple when she gets back and you won’t have to rely on the yet unconfirmed depth of our relationship,” Dudley suggested.

Harry grinned at the jibe. “Thought you said you were a numbers man?”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t play.”

Penny came back a few minutes later. “I’m not working today so it doesn’t matter anyhow,” she explained before any of them could say a word, “But what do y’all want to do today?”

“Drink more of this,” Draco said, tipping the mug to her.

“Got fifty pounds of it nearby. It's the stuff we use over at the café in town- comes out of San Antonio. What’s Brewin’ is the brand. Started in the seventies.”

“It’s delicious.”

“And expensive, but it’s worth it. Anything else on the agenda?” Penny went to pour herself a cup and leaned on the counter, eyebrows raised.

“I’d suggest we go over there, but I think it’d ruin my not meddling in the renovation,” Draco said. “Should probably wait.”

“Understandable. Though I don’t know how you do it. I’m half-crazy if I have to leave a project for a few days.”

“Think I’m more than half. Just good at hiding it.”

Penny laughed. “We can just sit around watchin’ movies all day. Definitely overdue for Dud and I.”

“Is there anything you want to know?” Harry asked. “I mean, it’s just- if we’re going to be family, since we are family, I’d understand. Nothing I hate more than being the last one to know something.”

“Believe me, sugar, I am by no means the last one to know anything in this house. I am kinda curious about it all, but tell you what? How about we get some food in you first, and we can worry about the technicalities after?”

No sooner had she finished the sentence than Dudley was getting up from the table.

“Finally gettin' dressed?”

“No. I’m making breakfast.”

“Can’t say I’m not relieved,” Penny said, and went to steal Dudley’s seat.

Harry blacked out for a few seconds at the overwhelming cognitive dissonance this small action caused. When he returned to consciousness, Penny was talking.

“... and I know it sounds stupid or silly or somethin’, but this man really did change my life. How did you two meet? Somethin’ about comin’ across a London boy smack dab in the middle of Fort Worth really opens your eyes to how serendipitous the world can be, you know?”

“Oh, it wasn’t serendipitous,” Draco said. “I think destined is much more accurate.”

“No,” Harry said, shaking his head. “It was serendipitous. We met before either of us knew who the other one was.”

“Hate to ask the obvious, but isn’t that how all people meet?” Penny asked.

“Not us. I was famous, he was infamous.”

“Oh really?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I hardly think ‘infamous’ is an appropriate way to describe an eleven-year-old. Not to mention you hadn’t been back for much longer and honestly could have been anyone.”

“Exactly. Serendipitous.”

“Y’all met when you were eleven?”

“We hated each other for about a decade,” Harry said. “Tale as old as time.”

“We did not hate each other,” Draco said.

“What about attempted murder-”

“He’s exaggerating,” Draco said.

“I am not,” Harry said.

They proceeded to explain their history in the argumentative way they always did- on the off chance they were requested by a stranger to tell it. Penny agreed with Harry in the end, although Dudley’s few interventions suggested he was with Draco on the point. By the time they were finished, Dudley was setting steaming plates of eggs, bacon, and toast on the table. “Can’t offer a full English, I’m afraid.”

Draco snorted. “Regular consumption of a full English is guaranteed to result in a heart-attack by the age of thirty-five, so I can’t say I’m disappointed there.”

They were regaled with the story of how Dudley and Penny met, on campus at Texas Wesleyan, while devouring Dudley’s exceptionally-prepared food. His cooking skills were what had won her over in the end, though it was clear on Dudley’s end that he wouldn’t have let her go come hell or high water by that point. Their relationship had taken a turn for the chaotic when Penny ended up pregnant in their second year of school. “Now, luckily I’m from the south and havin’ kids young isn’t really a surprise down here. And I kinda already wanted to marry him anyway, so Ella was a great excuse.”

“You finished school with a baby?” Harry asked, trying and failing to imagine how difficult Ella must have been to negotiate with before acquiring the power of speech.

“Believe it or not, Texas schools offer great discounts to married students and parents. Our parents weren’t thrilled at the beginning, but everybody got together and decided we were of close enough stock that we could all get along. I still fight with my cousins, and Vernon and Petunia are four states away. All worked out for the best though. See my parents and my nieces every time we go to church.”

“You go every week?” Draco asked.

“Goodness, no. If I had to see my mamma once a week I’d be guaranteed to lose my mind before the age a thirty. She’s a generous woman, and that often translates to wantin’ to micromanage her kids’ and grandkids’ lives. Not sure how my sister does it- they live down the block from each other.” Penny shivered.

“Yikes,” Draco said. “Are you older or younger?”

“Younger. Really worked in my favor, bein’ the problem child already. They were so happy I didn’t up and move back to London with Dudley that they pretty much forgave me for sticking with him in the first place. I mean, there was nothin’ else we coulda done when I got pregnant- even his parents woulda had trouble with it if we split, you know? First I thought it was weird, ‘cause his mamma’s real possessive, as I’m sure you know, but I think she was so happy she was gettin' a grandbaby that she was able to overlook my stealin’ her son. What about you, Draco? You said your mamma loved Harry, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Turns out all he had to do was save my life twice and he’s in her good graces for life.”

“I saved your life once, don’t be a prat.”

“Giving you due credit’s being a prat, now, is it?”

“No. I just... we should probably tell you the story,” Harry said with a sigh.

“Actually, Dudley and I should clean up after breakfast and leave y’all two to decide where best to continue catchin’ up. I recommend the living room, ‘cause even though the family room’s technically cozier there’s a TV in there and you know how those things demand attention even when they aren’t on.”

Harry and Draco refilled their respective cups of coffee and tea (the classic PG Tipps, which Harry must admit was as good a fallback as any) and then went to sit in the living room. It was separated from the kitchen enough that they and their hosts could have some privacy from each other.

The combination of giddiness and dread Harry was feeling- at both the way things had turned out for his cousin and the fact that he was about to explain the war to someone for the first time in his life, and at that as a central figure in it- was making his head spin. In the wizarding world everyone just knew, and it wasn’t as if he’d got close enough to any muggles to have warranted telling them. He had been on the brink of telling a muggle about magic. If they hadn’t gotten into an explosive, relationship-ending fight, he probably would have told her. Good thing their worldviews turned out to be fundamentally incompatible.

“Alright?” Draco was asking him this question much too often for Harry’s liking. Not that he didn’t like that Draco cared, just- Harry had been at the receiving end of this much concern many times before and was unsurprised to find he was still tired of it.

“Yes. No. You can help me, so it’s not as if I’m going it alone.”

Draco let out a semi-hysterical laugh. “Right. Leave it to the enemy to do a good job explaining things.”

“If you use that word in front of them I’ll kick you. Or hex you.”

“Because that’d go over so well with the liaison office.”

“They told them about wards, and that we were sort of famous, I don’t think it’ll come as that much of a surprise.”

“Might shed doubt on the stability of our relationship, though.”

Harry waved the suggestion away. “We’ve basically been engaged since we told Mrs. Weasley, I very much doubt telling an unexpected family member about the war will be what does us in.”

“Your confidence is reassuring.”

It did not go as poorly as Harry had feared.

As anticipated based on Dudley’s implications the night before, neither of them was wholly unfamiliar with magic. Draco did a bit of showing off (wandless accio and levitating the coffee table), which did not shake Penny in the least (though it did make Dudley do a double-take), and the two of them went on to summarize the war in the least painful way possible for all involved. By the end of it Dudley had a bit better idea how much danger Harry (and by extension his family) had been in, both Penny and Dudley were made more aware how Harry and Draco knew each other and how their respective positions as light and dark side puppets had given them more in common than they’d initially thought, and everyone agreed that Ella would be exposed to absolutely nothing with the exception of whatever PDA Harry and Draco felt comfortable with in the house while staying there.

Harry wasn’t actually worried about Ella misunderstanding any of that; he’d had a grasp on prejudice by the ripe old age of three, and she was definitely smart enough to have some idea what was going on. He was more worried that if they did anything magic while she was home she’d notice, because children really were more perceptive of those things and it wasn’t worth taking the chance with one as whip-smart as Ella. Especially given she could end up being magic herself, and then, you know. Higher chances than ever.

Mostly the discussion cemented the fact that they probably would stay there a month, barring any time they might spend away to preserve the sanity of the family. Penny assured them, with Dudley’s verbal support, that a break would not be necessary. Harry was sort of banking on the fact that if they stayed through Thanksgiving he and Draco would clear out to put as much space as possible between themselves and a horde of potentially-homophobic muggle relations. Not to mention the definitely-homophobic ones who would also no doubt be attending.

“Unfortunately I have to invite Dud’s parents to stay here, and I know that might be too much for y’all two. Sometimes they’ve said it’s a vacation and done a hotel instead, but if my grandmamma heard I’d denied in-laws the chance to stay with me she’d throw a hissy fit. I’d be more than happy to drive y’all back and forth to a nicer hotel in Dallas, it really isn’t that far from here-”

“We will really be fine,” Harry said. They’d booked the rental car indefinitely, psychotically expensive though that may have been, and given they were being fed and housed at Penny and Dudley’s expense the thought of paying for a few nights in a hotel was nothing. They had, after all, planned on the worst-case scenario being they ditched Dallas and made the vacation a tour of the country by car instead. If Harry was being honest he didn’t think that was entirely off the table, though he was by then determined to have an adult conversation with Petunia before fleeing the state.

A glance at the clock told Harry it was nearly eleven. Dudley, who noticed where his eyes had gone, stood. “I need to get dressed.”

“The last holdout,” Draco said. “Your endurance was admirable, friend.”

Dudley snorted and headed down the short hall; apparently it was a regional thing for the master to be on the ground floor.

“Seems like hangin’ out on the sofa’s the order of the day, but are you sure there wasn’t anything y’all wanted to do?”

“Maybe take a walk,” Draco said. “Take in the sights.”

“You mean the houses ten feet away from each other and the sidewalks that need repavin’ even though they were finished yesterday?”

“Sounds riveting,” Harry said.

“You know what? Here.” Penny fished out a cell phone from the bejeweled pocket of her jeans and handed it to Harry. “Take this. I know I’m supposed to be off, but I got some work to catch up on. Call the home number if you get lost.”

“Is that very likely?” asked Draco, brow furrowed.

“These developments are real confusing, even to people who’ve lived here for years. I think it’ll take me three more before I know my whole way around, and that’s just this neighborhood! It’s somethin’ about traffic flow and limiting through streets.”

“Right,” Harry said. “Thanks. But won’t you need it, if you’re working?”

“Hon, as long as it’s not the school callin’ about Ella-Mae, they can leave a message. And the school and anyone who’s important at work has my home number. I told them I was takin’ the day off and what they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em.”

A few minutes later, Harry and Draco set off into the autumn wind. It was still warm enough not to need more than sleeves here, and both of them left their light jackets unbuttoned. “Wish I could hold your hand,” Harry commented.

“Because the risk of a parent pushing a stroller past us is so perilous,” Draco said, eye-roll audible. Then, serious, “Don’t even hold hands outside of Diagon much.”

“We don’t go out of Diagon much.”

Draco scoffed at that. “We’ve shopped exclusively at Sainsbury’s for the past year!”

“I’m sorry, how exactly would we be expected to hold hands while carrying ten grocery bags each?”

Draco shook his head. “We don’t end up with ten, we go more often than that!”

“I was referring to the trips for sugar and flour, which, as of late-”

“Alright, alright. I’ll concede this point, though you’d better believe I’m winning the next argument.”

They went along in silence for a while. The trees were just beginning to turn; in London they were half-gone already, pavements piled over with leaves in every square. This place was still partly green. Despite being surrounded by cookie-cutter houses that only differed from those of Surrey in size and style, Harry found he enjoyed the walk. Fall was his favorite time of year. He’d got used to spending it at Hogwarts, or holed up in the bookshop- he'd started at Rollins a few Octobers ago- and the thought of curling up under a blanket near a fire made him almost as warm as the thing itself did.

He stretched his arms above his head, feeling his wand shift slightly in his sleeve. They’d both transfigured their coats with a little pocket to hold them, like they always did when they were spending time in the muggle world. Anything wizarding had a pocket ready-made, though cloaks still dominated the fashion for anyone who steered clear of muggle London. It was becoming more and more difficult to avoid muggles as of late; Ministry policies were tending towards inclusion in the postwar landscape, no thanks to Hermione. If she kept on like she had she’d unseat Kingsley as Minister within the next half-decade.

Harry could see why people liked living here. Apart from the different attitude of the country, there was something nice about the wide-open spaces and the weather in this particular part. He’d always liked lying in the sun by the lake, or later, sitting on the little balcony of his flat and soaking up the summer sunlight.

“Dreaming of a past life?” Draco asked with a sidelong glance at him.

Harry laughed. Every time he got like that Draco waxed poetic about his previous incarnation as a lizard, and he rarely let slip a chance to bring it up. “You’re funny. No, I was thinking I understand why people want to live here. Though you’d have to do a lot worse than twist my arm to convince me.”

Draco grinned. “The city’s too good, isn’t it? We’re doing it backwards. Vacationing in the suburbs.”

“Sometimes we go to the country.”

“S’not a vacation if you have to see my father. Not a vacation if I have to see my father.”

He had a point. “Still, the grounds are nice. Wouldn’t mind living out there, I don’t think, if everything I had worth anything in life wasn’t in London.”

“It doesn’t have to be in London.”

Harry sighed. “Oh, don’t.”

“No, really.”

Harry shot him a glance, looked back ahead. “We’ve been over this, and until I am at least halfway retired I will not even consider-”

“I don’t mean the manor,” Draco said softly. “We could go anywhere.”

Harry could tell by his tone that he meant it. He was taken aback. Draco’d spent no small period of their early relationship explaining why he liked London so much more than the other two places he’d lived. For one, there were people, and that granted anonymity. Then there was the way Draco absorbed experiences and culture. Couldn’t do that much in the middle of nowhere. Every time anybody mentioned anything about them two retiring to the manor Draco made gagging noises and Harry’s eyebrows disappeared underneath his fringe. There’d never been a point considering going anywhere else. Harry furrowed his brow. “Where is this coming from?”

Draco shrugged. “Didn’t think you’d want to raise your kids in the city.”

They’d be serious later, then. Harry grinned. “Oh, how many do we have, then?”

“Three,” Draco said. “Maybe four. You’re still trying to convince me.”

Harry grabbed his hand.

“What about the stay-at-home parents?” Draco said.

“They’ll just have to deal with it,” Harry replied, beaming.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when phones didn't do the map bit? me neither I also was phoneless baby. dating the work a bit here, it is approximately 2003

Upon their return to the house, they found Dudley sprawled on the family room sofa with some food show on TV and Penny holed up in the office having an increasingly audible phone conversation with her mother.

“No, Mamma... very un-Christian of you, and if you don’t like it... too late to change now! It’s my turn to host Thanksgiving, and I will not... now that’s just bein’ unreasonable!”

Dudley offered a sympathetic look as Harry and Draco took seats on the massive sectional with him.

“We’ve been over this, Mamma. She’s not your daughter... find it ridiculous you have a problem with good, God-fearing folks when you know very well what the cousins do on the weekends... No I will not sit by and condone that kinda behavior by lettin’ them into my house and keepin’ other family members out!”

“I honestly can’t tell whether she’s talking about you or me,” Dudley said.

“That’s reassuring,” Harry said.

“Is it?” asked Draco.

“Yes,” Harry replied firmly. “Means their intolerance is as boundless as the ocean and they’re going to have to swallow it if we’re still here. It’s not localized against us, it’s just-” he waved his hand around, “-the way they are.”

“That’s a nice way of looking at it,” Dudley said. “Might’ve helped the first year we were married, when her dad wouldn’t stop glaring at me every chance he got.”

“Didn’t you say you lived with them?” asked Harry.

“They had the space, and Penny’s mum watched Ella when we couldn’t. It was horrible.”

After a few more minutes of heated discussion, Penny’s voice finally stopped drifting through the office door and she emerged looking a little upset but smiling anyway. “Sorry about that, y’all. You know mothers.”

“Yes we do,” the three of them said at once.

They watched TV and chatted for a while. Penny tried to get them to eat, but ended up having a granola bar when all three of them insisted they were still full from breakfast. “Y’all get hungry in two hours it is not my fault. I tried.”

Eventually Harry and Penny tuned out of the cooking shows to talk about the significant others sitting five feet away from them while said significant others continued to watch cooking shows, enraptured, exchanging spirited commentary on the recipes of a northeastern American woman called the Barefoot Contessa.

Harry found out that Dudley really had told Penny everything he’d known about Harry’s circumstances. For the first time since he’d got there, Harry wasn’t surprised by how much she knew; he’d grown to understand that they had a deeply trusting relationship and were incredibly unlikely to keep anything from each other. When it hit him he was speechless for a second. How much did that mean? Meant everything to him, to Sirius, to Draco and Lupin and... had to mean as much to Dudley. Giving over everything and having it all given back in return, after the way he’d grown up. Penny, ever tactful, told a story about Dudley setting his lab coat on fire to get his attention back. They got to swap quite a few school stories, which, though admittedly darker on Harry’s part, were generally entertaining anyway.

It was Penny’s turn to carpool, and Harry offered to keep her company. He could tell from her expression that she wouldn’t mind the chance to talk to him alone for a few minutes. Also Dudley and Draco were clearly having a nice enough time with the Food Network.

“We got time. I’ll drive slow,” Penny said as Harry got in the passenger seat.

“What do you want to know?”

“Nothin’ more than yesterday. What do you wanna tell me?”

Harry shook his head. “Doesn’t work that way. Least not with this.”

Penny sighed. “I know. Know him well enough to get that. I just- by all accounts our lives weren’t that different, but now he knows better he looks back on his childhood like the strange dream it was.”

“Strange dream?” Out of all the words Harry might have used-

“Don’t know what else to call it. Families fight, families have extended families that they fight with once or twice a year, families tell each other the wrong things at the wrong times, kids know more about what goes on in a house than the parents want to realize. But with him it was like...” she freed one hand from the wheel in a helpless gesture.

It clicked. “Like as long as he was happy and safe and ignorant his parents didn’t mind the rest of it?”

“Exactly. Like it was in my house, or would be, if I didn’t ask a million questions a minute. We talked a lot, when I got pregnant. He didn’t wanna raise Ella that way. All- sheltered and closed-off. I mean, I was sheltered, but it wasn’t nothin’ like things were for the two of you.”

Harry thought back. “Never considered myself to be sheltered, but I guess I was. All the adults who knew the extent of things lied to me just about as long as they could, and even then... took me nearly dying to understand the rest of it.”

She didn’t comment on the dying bit. Harry wondered if it was because she’d read that much into it already or because she respected him enough not to pry. Probably both. “Makes me think of that song, ‘Cruel to Be Kind.’ Have to admit it sometimes works. Gotta know the right way to do it, though. And that- his parents, hell, my parents, even- that wasn’t it.” Penny sighed. “All we can do is try to do better than they did with us.”

“Yeah.” Harry waited a beat. “So, Draco’s never thought about this the same way I have, because things are just different where we’re from, but... how does your mum feel about us?”

“Oh, her?” Penny laughed, reaching out to pat the hand Harry had resting on his knee. “You do not have to worry, sweetheart. If there’s one thing I established with that woman it’s that she’s gotta respect the rules of my house when she’s in my house. First Christmas she didn’t want to have it all with Dud’s parents, and I had to put my foot down. In all honesty I think her prejudice has to do with upsetting tradition more than anything else. So long as you two are decent dinner guests- which I am completely sure you will be, you’ve both got impeccable manners- she won’t have a leg to stand on. S’what got her to accept the Dursleys in the first place. At the end of the day, she can dislike you as much as she wants, but she can’t help but respect someone who knows how to carry themselves. Not to mention if she puts me on bad terms with my husband’s family it’ll most certainly threaten our relationship- or at least she thinks it will, we wouldn’t let that silly old woman come between us- and if she doesn’t get a grandson within the next couple years she’ll be very disappointed.”

Harry was smiling slightly, refreshed by the honesty but disarmed by it, too. For all the depth they’d got into they hadn’t gone this far yet. Only been two days, not even. “Is it just you and your sister?”

“No. We’ve got an older brother, but he went and moved in with his immigrant girlfriend and then disappeared on the road tourin’ with his band. I still talk to him, but Mamma hasn’t heard a thing since he left the house and as long as she’s not relyin’ on him to fulfill her carryin’ on the family blood fantasy, I don’t see them talking anytime soon.”

“Draco’s parents are like that. With the family blood fantasy thing. They aren’t so concerned about a grandson, but if we don’t give them grandchildren I’m pretty sure they’ll die of disappointment.”

“See, that’s always been funny to me. They hate the people we end up with and then want us to have kids anyway. It’s like, make up your mind!” At that point they were in front of the school, one link in the slowly-moving chain of parents. A steady stream of children was coming out of the school, watched closely by both the bright-vested crossing guards and the teachers responsible for seeing them off.

As soon as Ella had the door open, she said, “Hi Mommy I love you thank you for picking me up hello Uncle Harry it’s good to see you again Mommy would not let me stay home from school,” in one single breath while piling into the car.

“Love you, too, Ella-Mae.”

Ella pulled the door shut and buckled up lightning fast, despite having to do all this around a booster seat. Then, “Oh, no!” Her eyes were wide. “I haven’t said I love you to Uncle Harry. Uncle Harry,” she turned to him. “I love you and Uncle Draco and I am very sorry for forgetting to tell you this.”

“That’s okay. We love you, too,” Harry said.

Penny looked mildly impressed. It was unclear who at, though Harry was 90% sure it was him. He tried not to go too red at the thought.

Ella had relaxed into her seat, some of the manic energy dissipated. “That’s good. I was worried you’d be mad at me for not saying it.”

Before Harry could respond, Penny cut in, “I told you, sweetheart, people do not get mad about you not sayin’ I love you when you see them. It’s more important to say it when you’re leavin,’ and even then every family doesn’t say it.”

“I think it’s silly not to say it. What if you die? Then you never said it.”

Harry tried and failed not to look completely dumbstruck by this declaration. A glance at Penny served to ask ‘what four-year-old has this sophisticated a concept of death’ without actually voicing it, to which she replied, “We were lucky enough to have some of her great-grandparents alive when she was born, and she decided to go through her ‘why’ phase right around the time they passed away.”

“I don’t know how you do that,” Harry said.

“Do what?” Ella asked.

Harry glanced back at her. “Be your mum. It sounds like very hard work.”

Penny laughed. “Oh, it is. Worth every second, but it is.”

They got home to find Dudley and Draco right where they’d left them, although there was now a stack of recipe cards on the coffee table. Harry raised his eyebrows at Draco- they were both sitting in exactly the same position as before- but Draco only wriggled his eyebrows and grinned back in response.

After a very nice family dinner and some of the still-soft cookies from the night before, everyone went back to sitting in the family room while Food Network continued to educate them. Ella, not wanting to be left out, had brought some more of her Barbies downstairs and was throwing them across the room to demonstrate their powers of flight. In an effort to distract himself from the urge to pull out his wand and make the dolls actually fly, Harry sidled up next to Draco. “Swap many recipes?”

“Absolutely. Enjoy talking about us while we weren’t around?”

“We didn’t, actually,” Harry said. “Well, not much. Mostly we talked about our families. And there wasn’t much time. School is close.”

Draco pulled his eyes away from the screen. “Are you doing alright?”

“You know I hate it when people ask that.”

“Not gonna stop asking.”

Harry sighed. “I’m very well, thank you.”

“Ouch. What was that for?”

“Nothing. It’s just hard not to be on edge when you’re thinking you should be on edge.”

Draco reached up to touch his shoulder. “Help if you stopped thinking that.”

“I have. I’m trying to save it for the family reunion.”

“You still want to do that?” Draco was staring at him, serious now.

“I still want to do that,” Harry said. “Let you know if it changes.”

He slept as easily as he had the night before. No dreams, no nightmares, no waking up nauseous for no apparent reason. Draco said he’d slept fine. If not for Draco’s drop in coffee intake Harry wouldn’t have believed him.

Dudley and Penny tried to spend as much time with Ella as possible on the weekends, both because their work schedules were unforgiving and because they wanted to enjoy their time with her before she started getting involved in clubs and sports and things. Penny highly suspected she was going to join the Girl Scouts; Dudley was convinced she’d be a volleyball player.

“Volleyball isn’t a children’s sport, darlin’. They wait until middle school to really get into it.”

“Either that or gymnastics. Got enough energy for gymnastics.”

“Heavens she does. Come to think of it we might want to see if she wants to do anything this summer. I know it’s the last one we have before school starts messing everything up, but it’d be a lot easier than having her join during the year.”

“What about next summer?” Harry asked.

Ella replied with utmost gravity, “I told Mamma if I had to wait that long I’d have another protest.”

Penny sighed. “You will not rest ‘til you get your way, will you? We have plenty of time to talk about it, honey. Gotta do our research. What do you wanna do this weekend? Anything special?”

“I want to play with Uncle Harry and Uncle Draco and... get to know them.”

“Are you sure she’s five?” Harry asked Dudley.

He raised his hands in the air. “Don’t look at me. She got that from her mother.”

After a very peaceful (if you could call Barbies with superpowers peaceful) weekend, Harry sat in the guest room marveling at what had become of all their lives. Dudley was with Penny and had a daughter older than Rose, Draco was with him, he was going to see Petunia and have a civilized conversation with her little more than two weeks from then... if he didn’t know any better he’d have thought his mad luck was still with him.

“My darling, what?” Draco kept his eyes on his book, but Harry could tell he was ready to fling it down and reassure him at a moment’s notice.

“Can you stop being so tense and enjoy your vacation?” It was one thing for Harry to be wound up, he was still adjusting; Draco, on the other hand, should have calmed down by then.

“I am enjoying my vacation. I’m reading a book I very much enjoy, spending copious amounts of time with the man I love, and getting to know his family while supporting him getting to know that same family.”

Harry wasn’t fooled. “You’re also waiting for me to snap, and to be honest it’s kind of getting in the way of me relaxing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harry sighed. “You’re worrying about me because you can’t worry about the café. Why don’t you just call Blaise? It’s been long enough.”

“I’m testing my power of self-control.” His voice was too even.

“It’s been nearly a week. I’m sure he’s already impressed how long you’ve lasted.”

“That doesn’t mean I should give up.”

“It’ll make you feel better.”

Draco finally set his book down. “I am feeling perfectly alright.”

“Yes,” Harry said. “I know. That’s why you’ve managed to pass this whole weekend doing nothing but going for walks and playing Barbies.”

“Superhero Barbies are very exciting.”

Harry wasn’t buying it. Draco could be the biggest ball of anxiety he knew if conditions were right. He didn’t have the same compartmentalization skills as Harry. Harry could keep going indefinitely until he got upset, exploded, and then was fine again. Draco pushed himself and pushed himself, far beyond the point of reason; instead of letting himself flip out and move past the problem, he let go on until it was impossible to continue without addressing it. Typically until it caused so many other problems that he could no longer ignore the anxiety one. This had resulted in a decent number of mental breakdowns during their time together, and, Harry guessed, would lead to plenty more before Draco found a healthier outlet for his nerves.

Not that Harry was a shining example, but still. “You do not need to be a superhuman beacon of self-restraint. Call him.”

“It hasn’t even been a-”

“For the love of Merlin, Draco, call him.”

Draco bit his lip.

“If you don’t call him I’m going to borrow their phone and call my therapist-”

“Our therapist,” Draco corrected.

“Who will be worried about you.” A low blow, but it was about time they both stopped holding their breath and just let it be a nice vacation.

“Fine. Get me the thing.” Draco sat, arms crossed, in bed as Harry rifled through his bag for the portable Floo. It was a little jar of fire, not unlike the one Hermione had made all those years ago, only these flames were green and showed the face of whomever you were talking to.

“Blaise Zabini, please,” Harry said into the now-open top of the jar.

“... and if you try that again, I’m sacking the lot of you! Harry. How’re things?” Blaise appeared completely unconcerned by the fact he’d been shouting while he answered the call.

“I’m fine. I thought you should talk to Draco about the renovation so he can stop grinding his teeth.”

“Understandable. He’s got to be going mad by now.”

“Honestly!” Draco said as he took the jar from Harry. “I’ve only been drinking two cups of coffee-”

“Which you do to convince people you’re fine, it isn’t very convincing,” Blaise said.

Draco glanced between them, betrayed. Harry only shrugged. “He’s got a point.” Harry hadn’t seen Draco on less than three cups a day in... well, anytime he could remember, and it wasn’t like Blaise hadn’t eaten breakfast with him every day through school.

“Things are going swimmingly,” Blaise said.

“What is that a euphemism for?” Draco’s tone was steady, but Harry could tell the yelling had thrown him off.

“Nothing. Everything’s fine. We’ve just found a bit of water damage-”

“Where? How old?”

“It’s fine. We’re fixing it. Be done by Tuesday at the latest.”

Draco’s eyes bounced between Harry and Blaise again for a few seconds. Then he said, “Can you give me a real update so Harry stops blowing my minor trepidation out of proportion?”

“The fact that you have any trepidation at all proves you have no faith in me,” Blaise said. “It’s going well. Honestly.” He proceeded to explain that they’d finished tiling the floors before finding the water leak, which was spectacular news because it meant the subfloors didn’t get damaged when they opened up the ceiling.

“What about the hardwood?”

“As I implied, the leak was in the other section of the building and did not have any contact with the hardwood.”

“What about the problem? Could there be future leaks?”

It took forty-five minutes for Blaise to reassure him. When Draco was finally satisfied enough to hang up, Harry accepted the portable and put it back in their luggage.

“What time is it?” Draco asked.

“In this time zone? Three in the morning. At home? Nine.”

“He’s probably sleeping in our flat, if he’s started before nine.”

“We need to go to bed,” Harry said. He wasn’t sure how they’d been up that long already. Possibly the fact that Penny and Draco had been baking again ‘til midnight while Harry and Dudley swapped stories about what they were doing on xyz day during whatever summer.

“I said that four hours ago.”

Harry decided not to point out he and Penny had still been in the kitchen four hous ago and settled in for a few hours of sleep instead.

Both of them decided to get dressed before going down to breakfast next morning. It was a late start for them, anyhow. Not to mention the potential of their presence throwing a wrench in Ella’s morning routine. They’d talked things over with Dudley and Penny the night before; basically they were supposed to call if they needed anything and think of their house as their own. As far as they knew everyone would be gone all day. Harry was looking forward to the break from human interaction and consequently hadn’t the faintest idea how Penny and Dudley were managing.

Everyone was a bit more rushed, already halfway out the door when they came downstairs. Dudley did the dishes, since he was last to leave; he had to physically block Harry’s attempts to help.

Penny had given them a spare key and a list of all the phone numbers. She also lent them her GPS, which fascinated Draco and annoyed Harry. “It’s pretty easy to use. Dallas ain’t too far away, but if you want somethin’ closer to here there’s a real nice shopping center down highway 121. I’d go there if I were you. Place is always deserted during weekdays.”

“Well?” Harry asked Draco when everyone had left. “What d’you want to do?”

“Honestly an American mall sounds like a great opportunity to take in the culture.”

“Right then.” Harry went to get the keys and a map while Draco searched for the mall in the GPS.

Twenty minutes later they were pulling into one of the many parking garages that ringed the massive shopping center. As expected, the place was pretty empty. “Think it’s just Monday or do they rely on weekends?” Harry asked, peering around the vacant garage.

“Dunno. Definitely a nice change of pace from home, though.”

A minute later they were entering a department store that was smaller than some of the Oxford street stores, but entirely too large to be part of another building. “Why does this place have four floors?” Harry asked.

“What, when we’re not in the city, you mean?”

“Exactly.”

Draco shrugged. “It’s America. And everything’s bigger in Texas.”

A look at the directory showed the mall was massive. They started a slow walk and determined to go anywhere that caught their fancy.

As was the case in the muggle world, Harry wasn’t bothered by the prospect of being around people; he was more anonymous here than anywhere else, so long as he didn’t speak too loudly. The ease with which he relaxed into the trickle of other mallgoers made him wonder if he really was as comfortable around his family as he’d thought he’d been.

“You’re brooding. You should be shopping.”

“Aren’t we broke?”

“Technically speaking we’re both very very rich, but if you’re talking about the money that’s not in our retirement or renovation funds…”

Harry sighed. “I knew the car would blow through half our money, but I couldn’t stand not having one.”

“Good thing too. I’ve seen maybe three bus stops the entire time we were here and we drove through a metropolitan center.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Dallas doesn’t seem good at public transport, do they?”

“Think it’s an American problem. Place is so huge it’s a wonder they can get anywhere without high-speed trains.”

“We got through four states,” Harry pointed out.

“Not completely. And there are fifty. One of them’s only accessible via Canada, and another requires plane or boat.”

“Or long-distance Portkey.”

“You like those about as much as apparition in general.”

Harry grimaced. “I see your point. Think this place has decent apparition spots?”

Draco shrugged. “When you looked it up you told me everyone in America has a car even if they’re wizards, and to be honest I haven’t seen much to contradict that.”

Harry hummed.

A beat later, “Ooh, come on, cooking store, I’ve got to get my brother-in-law a spatula, it’s part of some ancient code…” he kept talking, but Harry had stopped dead. A second later Draco realized Harry wasn’t next to him and turned. “I’ve fucked up, haven’t I?”

“No,” Harry said. “Absolutely not, I just…” but he didn’t know how to finish the sentence. “I am really, really tired of all this.” Harry did not want to be having an existential crisis because Draco’d called Dudley his brother-in-law. It wasn’t fair.

Draco put a hand on his arm. “Been four days, sweetheart.”

“Is that your way of telling me it’s time to pull the chute?”

“No. I just think you should consider it. You know. The implications.”

“Of what, the stress?” Harry shook his head in a futile attempt to clear it. “Come on. You can goggle the kitchen things and it’ll keep you from being annoyed at me.”

They stepped into the kitchen store. Draco kept shooting him looks, but eventually Harry got out of his sight lines and willed him to pay attention to something more productive than Harry’s brooding.

He’d expected it to be different from the Weasleys’, different from being at Ron and Hermione’s or Ginny and Luna’s or… anywhere, really. And it wasn’t. It was just (apart from the learning curve that came of not knowing someone for years) normal. Even when he was being normal Harry wasn’t. Not that there was such a thing. And that was okay, blah, blah, blah, normal didn’t exist and as long as he was happy he shouldn’t care about the rest of it, and… “I need something,” Harry announced. When he realized Draco really had left earshot, he found him and said, “I need something,” again.

Draco set down the strange kitchen utensil he was holding. “What? What is it?”

“I don’t know. It may be a pair of shoes, or new pants, or a stupid little souvenir that reminds me I did this with you, but- I need to get out of my head.”

“And you, Harry Potter, think shopping is going to fix that?” Draco sounded skeptical.

Harry shrugged. “Works for Ginny, works for loads of other people, why can’t it work for me?”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “Which ex is ‘loads of other people,’ just so I have an idea?”

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

“That’s the number of other people you’ve been with and you named one already.”

“Why don’t we call it all of the above and find you that spatula, yeah?” Harry slapped a hand on Draco’s arm and turned to a wall that was mostly spatulas.

Turned out deciding to just be shopping and not care about anything except the six feet of retail in front of him worked for getting his mind off things at least as well as asking Draco what kinda weird sex stuff he wanted to do and then doing it.

Harry remembered the age-old travel proverb (according to Hermione) that if you like it, get it when you see it; he ended up with four medium bags and two little ones, all with gifts, and a black jean jacket that made him feel like the edgy suave Camden neighbor that everyone wished would fall in love with them.

“I get it. I really do. I mean, already in love with you, but I totally get it,” Draco said. He’d suggested a flannel underneath, which, with a pair of ass-hugging jeans, really completed the look. “You’re buying all of that.”

“Oh, yeah. But the jacket.” Harry glanced over his shoulder in the mirror, feeling a little ridiculous and a lot excited about the expanse of nothingness waiting to be covered with patches. “This is perfect. I can have a thing. A piece of clothes that’s also a me thing.” His not caring about clothes beyond looking generally decent had carried over from his school years. Never really put much thought into what he was wearing beyond how nice he had to look. But this jacket made him feel safe. Protected. “Like a muggle version of the cloak,” he said under his breath.

“Oh, Harry. You didn’t just-”

Harry interrupting what he was pretty sure was going to be the phrase ‘imprint on a jean jacket.’ “I did. I’m wearing it out of the store.”

On the drive home Draco said, “D’you want me to crack open the international account or are we turning in the car?”

“The first one. Absolutely the first one.”

“S’what I thought.” Draco settled back in his seat, lowering the sunglasses that he’d bought less than an hour ago. “Just making sure.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW eating disorders and people getting mildly drunk

By Wednesday morning Harry was finally getting into the swing of vacation.

Something about the shopping spree had been the deathblow for Draco’s anxiety; it was almost like now that Harry was finally relaxing properly, Draco could, too. Harry decided to accept it as the gift it was and not point out that Draco caring about him so much (when he was clearly fine) was mildly ridiculous. Draco had only called Blaise once since Sunday night, and the conversation had only lasted twenty minutes. He was back to drinking coffee at the usual questionable pace, and he’d taken to carrying a book around with him in case there was a lull in whatever they were doing. Tuesday it’d been mostly sitting. Wednesday it was the breakfast conversation, which went on just as well without him.

“Y’all heading out again today? It’s chillier than usual. We might want to start the fire later,” Penny said.

“Can we roast marshmallows?” Ella asked.

“Sure, sweetheart.”

“Can we just eat those for dinner?”

Penny sighed.

“No, we can’t, darling,” Dudley said. He was pouring over a file instead of a crossword. “We’re having takeaway for dinner because I have six meetings and am not getting out of work until that time tonight.”

“McDonald’s!”

“Nobody said anything about McDonald’s,” Dudley countered.

“It’s the most fun,” Ella insisted. “Come on. You talk about how American it is all the time. And Uncle Draco needs more American stuff.”

Draco set his book down, holding his place with a finger. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re more British than Uncle Harry and we have to balance it out so when you come back it’s even.”

Harry could not begin to understand that one. Draco seemed to, though. He nodded. “Well said. And Dudley, you’ve fed us very well so far.” He left the second half tactfully unsaid because if he didn’t Ella was liable to go to any length to see his grown-up suggestion of McDonald’s through its conclusion. Draco was very good at anticipating what Ella might say next and wording things accordingly.

“If I say yes will you promise not to start any riots at school today?” Dudley asked.

“I won’t start any. But if there’s already one happening you can’t expect me not to be in it, Dad.” Yesterday Ella had demanded better colored pencils, causing an uproar amongst her classmates. Harry remembered Penny mentioning something about not letting her be an only child for the sake of taming some of that attitude and his admiration for her redoubled.

Harry and Draco settled into the couch, maybe to sit on it all day again. “You look better,” Draco said. “Less tense.”

“You reach a point, in a problem, where you just stop caring. Decide to see it through to the end but accept that you’ve got no control over it.”

“And that’s you, with Thanksgiving?”

“Yep. Also both of us have proven we can manage in civilized society, so any reassurance I might have needed is no longer necessary.”

Draco laughed. “What did you think I was going to do, punch him in the face?”

Harry turned to stare at him. “I think you’re going to give Petunia the telling-off of her life.”

Draco opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Harry looked back to the TV. “Not like I can stop you. Or would even want to, really. Only reason’d be the guilt, and quite honestly I can’t be bothered to care about that.”

“You said ‘think,’ as in present tense.”

“Yep,” Harry said.

“Meaning you’re accepting what you think is fact- that I’m going to tell her off- as an inevitable part of this holiday.”

“Yep.”

“So you’re against leaving?”

Harry turned to Draco again. “No. Yes. I’m against leaving the area, not the house. I said I’d try and be here a month, that’s what we do in the UK on holiday, or so Dudley said and you agreed, we take _time_ , and what’s more worth taking time than family? I don’t want him to think I don’t think that, so.” Harry shrugged. “We’re stuck here. First few days they get in we’ll go and have a fuckfest at a hotel somewhere, and then every time anyone asks me a question in their earshot I’ll have the chance to answer with a double-entendre. You’ll bitch her out, we’ll leave, no one will see anyone until the rest of the family’s gone, that’ll be that.”

Draco touched the side of his face. “You’re serious.”

“As a horcrux.”

“Little morbid, isn’t it?”

Harry shrugged. “I’m going with the flow. Saying what comes to mind. Speaking of which you are very beautiful in this light and we haven’t kissed properly in ages, so…”

By Friday morning Harry was feeling a little bored but very satisfied.

He’d had three decent conversations with Dudley, none of which included humor at the other’s expense, and about a hundred good talks with Penny. Part of the latter was definitely down to Penny’s willingness to talk. Harry found her conversational skills liberating. Every time things strayed into uncomfortable territory, she either handled them with ease or steered them into safer environs, always with an eye to who was in the room and what said occupants were feeling. More and more she didn’t have to; they were getting so used to each other that it was rare for the conversation to get uncomfortable at all. Saturday night, Ella went to sleep over her grandparents’ house with her cousins. It would give the adults a chance to speak more freely about their elders (likely with the help of alcohol) and satisfy Penny’s mum’s need to ‘see my grandbaby and make sure she gets a decent dose of family tradition,’ which, according to Penny, was a sentence delivered regularly by her mother with a hearty amount of condescension.

“Honest, you’d think she was takin’ this girl on a mission trip every time they went to service, she thinks so much of it. Like, I’m sorry, mamma, I can’t go to church every week and I don’t want to. When my sister did cheer we missed more than a few Sundays, what’s the Lord’s excuse for that?”

“Think it has to be your mum’s excuse, doesn’t it?” Draco asked. He and Penny were each on their second glass of something with Bailey’s. Harry and Dudley were sticking to cider, which, though it’d been apparently a little difficult to find in alcoholic form, Dudley swore by.

“I don’t know. Honey, if I had a dollar for every time she pretended it was God’s will she was late, I swear… Anyway, hear how great your mom is but don’t know what she’s like.”

“His mum’s great,” Harry said, probably for the six-hundredth time. For as freely as they’d all talked, there had often been Ella to think about, not to mention knowing someone for a few hours was very different from having lived with them a week. If he was being honest, the alcohol was a fantastic excuse; Penny and Dudley, like everyone else they knew with kids, needed a few hours not on-alert every now and then to loosen up.

Penny waved her hand. “Yeah, honey, I know that. Y’all’ve said about a thousand times.”

“Right. She’s…” Draco ruminated over a sip of his drink. “She’s a very firm person. Unyielding, you know? People never saw it when I was growing up, not unless they came over, because the public face of the family was always my dad. He worked for the ministry, he went on all the business outings to family friends’ and what have you. But my mother- Did I tell you what she said, Harry? To my dad, during the war?”

“Maybe. Probably. Dunno.”

Draco nodded. “I don’t think I did. You already know this about her, so her saying it really just reinforces that, but- you two know how we were fighting a dark wizard? And he was living in my house?”

Penny and Dudley nodded.

“Well, when he decided we would be home base, my mum turned to my father, and she told him, ‘if he hurts Draco I’ll kill him myself,’ and I think that really drove it home for him that he’d fucked up.”

“Oh,” Dudley said. “Oh. _Harry_. I didn’t tell you about the time my mum almost kicked dad out.”

Harry felt like he’d been slapped. “What?”

“Yeah, it was in Year 10, before you got home.”

Harry took a drink.

“Right. That was when I heard the name- Dumbledore- though I didn’t fully know what was going on. They were screaming about it when I got home, mum was insisting she had no choice, dad was saying he was done, he wanted to chuck you out, but mum wouldn’t let him. He left for a whole day and came home with flowers. Hardly ever did that. Only when he really really fucked up.”

Harry shook his head. “There it is again. She let him do it, treat me like dirt on the bottom of his shoe, helped, even, and then-” Harry bought time with a drink. “Merlin. How do I even _react_ to that?”

Draco put a hand on his knee. “However. No right way to feel.”

“I’m sorry, but y’all must go to therapy, right?”

“Yes,” Harry and Draco said at once.

“Thank you!” Penny said, slamming her hand on the table like they’d made a point for her. “Dud needs to go!”

“It’s fine,” Dudley said.

“I had an eating disorder for all of eleventh and twelfth grade and if my parents hadn’t swallowed their shortsightedness long enough to try therapy I could’ve died before I met the love of my life.”

“Fuck,” Draco said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t eat much sixth year, but that was more a symptom. Of the anxiety the war gave me. Whose ass I am kicking, by the way.”

“Cheers,” Penny said. “I almost got sick again a few years ago. S’why we moved out.”

Dudley groaned.

“It’s perfectly respectable gettin’ a loan from my parents, baby. Nobody’s perfect.”

“It’s not a loan if you don’t have to pay it back,” Dudley said.

Penny shook her head. “They’re payin’ in time right now. Do I like to have a night off from my babygirl takin’ up every bit of my attention, sure, but at the end of the day you know she’s tryin’ to fill that sweet little girl’s head with fantasies and the amount of parenting it takes to undo that sorta thing-”

“She’s four and a half.”

“And the smartest baby you ever set eyes on or heard about, you can’t tell me it isn’t true.”

Dudley tipped his glass to her.

“We’re payin’ for that girl’s college and the rest a this house and everything else we’ve ever needed, so I don’t see how- especially when your parents left you with _student loans_ to pay _by yourself_ -”

“Pen, please,” Dudley said.

“No. I am drinkin’ and we’re around family. It’s true. Can’t bring a kid up and want things like that from ‘em and then not _help_.”

“They couldn’t-”

“Don’t you dare say they couldn’t afford it, Dudley, you know as well as I do that house of theirs cost twice what the old one did. Beachfront property, I mean, _really_?” she said this to Harry and Draco, who were skillfully staying out of the discussion. “They’re just mad you picked me, s’what it is.”

Harry shot Draco a sidelong glance.

“Don’t start,” Draco said.

Harry raised his eyebrows. “I didn’t start anything, your father started it-”

Draco sighed.

Harry thought, fuck it. “They don’t need the money!”

“Being part of a long family line-”

“No, I don’t care, they don’t need it.”

Draco had the audacity to roll his eyes. “Harry got himself taken off the list of richest under thirty before the article was published by giving obscene amounts to charity-”

“Charity, Draco, really? Obscene?”

Draco flung his hands in the air. “We could’ve doubled that and then given it away-”

“No. Fuck off.”

“I’m just saying there’s something to be said about generational obligation-”

“Thank you!” Penny said.

Harry’s opinions on generational obligation were intensified by the loud knock on his door next morning.

“Fucking hell,” Harry said. “It’s just past ten!” They’d been up ‘til four. Not to mention he couldn’t get to the door if he wanted to, because Draco was laying diagonally across him. “Did we-?”

Penny’s voice interrupted that question. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, somethin’ came up.”

“Just come in,” Harry said, figuring between the shared hangover and his needing help getting Draco awake any awkwardness’d be cancelled out.

“Oh, I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“No, come in,” Harry said. “If he doesn’t hear you he won’t get up.” 

Penny opened the door wider and sighed. “We’re expected at brunch.” 

“Today?”

“Unfortunately. Church started an hour ago, and by eleven fifteen they’ll be at brunch and if we’re not there they’ll have given the wrong number of people for the reservation and that’s just about the rudest thing you could do on a Sunday.” Penny’s expression confirmed that she held no such belief. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want, but we gotta go.”

Harry nudged Draco. “Babe. We’ve got reservations in an hour.”

“ _No_.”

“Penny’s mum did it.”

Draco cracked his eyes open partway. “Is this a joke?”

“I’ll let y’all figure out what you wanna do,” Penny said, and backed from the room, closing the door as she went.

“Not a joke,” Harry said. “Either we look rude for standing them up or… I don’t know. Can you make yourself presentable enough to go?”

“Of course I can,” Draco said, voice muffled by the pillow he was now facedown on. “Question is have I come down with a _nasty_ cold-”

“Draco. We should do it.”

Draco lifted his head. “Who are you?”

“Sorry?”

“Are you Harry, or were you replaced with a lookalike in the night? Because normally the thought of anything obligatory-”

“We’re doing it for family, Draco.”

“Fuck,” Draco said on a long exhale.

Normally he’d have been right. If Harry didn’t feel like showing up to brunch or an interview or whatever the hell else it was on the day of, he didn’t. The only exception was family, because whatever may come they had a right to know how he was doing because they cared about him and unless he really was spewing buckets or unable to get out of bed, he was going to be there. Penny’s parents may not be family, but Penny was, and Harry wasn’t about to laugh in the face of one of the few rules he actually upheld just because her mum was supposedly unpleasant.

Harry went to grab them coffee while Draco attempted to shower himself awake. Penny was nowhere to be found; Dudley was eating toast and looking over a crossword. “Makeup,” he explained.

“Ah,” Harry said. He poured two cups of coffee, not bothering with the milk in his. “Do us all good this morning.”

Dudley snorted. Harry went upstairs as fast as he could without spilling.

Annoying though it was to be woken up more than five seconds before they had to leave, Harry was grateful for the time. It allowed him to transfigure his clothes into something appropriately brunchy, not to mention getting a cup and a half of coffee into Draco and half of one into himself. At five to eleven they were both staring in the bathroom mirror.

“Hair,” Draco said.

Harry laughed.

“Right, then. Does this collar look right?”

Harry stared at him in their reflections.

Draco huffed. “Harry-”

“Draco, you look wonderful, I’ve no idea what could possibly be wrong with your collar, can I wear my jean jacket to protect against the homophobia that will be radiating from their unspoken questions?”

“Be inappropriate to discuss around the children. Never mind we’re marrying them off at five.” Draco grabbed his jacket and passed it to him.

“Thanks.”

They took Penny’s larger car to the restaurant, which turned out to be much nicer than Harry would have thought for a reservation made on short notice. Then again, no telling if it had been short notice. If Penny’s mother was as sharp as she came off she’d probably have made the plan the second she heard they were staying and waited to tell Penny to lower Harry and Draco’s chances of begging off.

In her defense, it’d worked.

“The collared shirt makes this jacket nicer, right?” Harry asked under his breath as they were lead to their table.

“Who’s on about collars now?” Draco said.

“You look fine,” Penny said.

“You look wonderful,” Harry said back. She was wearing a floral print dress with a sweater and jacket over it. He’d seen about three men wearing shorts despite the weather and the niceness of the place; half of them were in t-shirts, didn’t deserve to be in the same dining room as her, honestly. “And he cleans up, doesn’t he?” with a nod toward Dudley.

“He really does. So does yours.” Then they were approaching a massive table and she was saying, “Mamma! Oh, it is so good to see you!” and hugging an imposing blonde woman who looked more than a match for Petunia in severity despite being probably half her height.

“Uncle Draco I missed you!”

“And I you,” Draco said to Ella, who had sprung up from the table to hug them.

“These must be the cousins,” Penny’s mother was saying. “I’m Eloise. Nice to meet you both.” She shook their hands then turned to Dudley, “And how’s my lovely son-in-law?”

“Well, thanks.” He accepted a hug from her as well, though it was much less enthusiastic than the one she’d exchanged with Penny.

“Y’all are at this end on the table with us,” Eloise said, as if this wasn’t obvious by the empty seats. “Please. I have been waitin’ to meet you. This is my husband, Ted,” she led them to shake hands with a bland-looking man at the head of the table, who must be Penny’s father. He did the rounds with them two and Dudley after accepting a hug from his daughter. Harry wondered if his staying seated was meant to make a point or if there wasn’t that much to it.

Eloise had them sit, then went around the table introducing everyone else. The seating definitely meant something there; Eloise was on Ted’s right hand, Penny on his left. Dudley was sat next to his wife, and Harry, to his annoyance if not surprise, was right next to Eloise. Draco had the seat next to him, with Ella next to him. Huh. Must not be worried about contaminating the children’s minds then. Penny’s sister, Leah, and her family took up the rest of the table. Her smile seemed genuine enough. Hard to tell much else from the opposite end of the table.

Thirteen, Harry realized. Like that Christmas at Hogwarts. Professor Trelawney had said when thirteen sat together the first to rise would be the first to die. Technically it’d been true.

He decided to put it out of his mind.

Instead he took in his surroundings. The restaurant lacked little in the way of ostentatious décor. All the furniture was chunky-huge, highly-polished, and arranged to allow ample space for diners and waiters alike to move around. Gleaming wooden floors clicked underfoot, the tablecloths were a crisp white linen and looked like they’d never been used, and the people eating and chatting underneath the towering ceilings were decked in their Sunday best (or most of them were, anyway). It was a kind of place he could have found back home in London. One the Malfoys may have dined at and Harry and Draco alone would never.

“… so glad to meet more of Dudley’s family. It’s hard, not havin’ as many people to grow up with, and then to move so far from home,” Eloise shook her head. “We are just so grateful to be extendin’ the family tree a little more.”

“Happy to be here,” Harry said, as designated extension of said family tree.

“Did your aunt and uncle know you were comin’?”

Harry felt Draco’s leg hook over his under the table. Smile cancelled out the frown. “I believe so, yes.” Harry looked to Dudley.

But before he could say anything, Eloise was placing a hand on Harry’s where it lay on the table. When Penny did it he felt comforted; when Eloise did he had to suppress a shiver. “Are y’all not in touch? I didn’t know. It’s good you’re on good terms with your cousin, at least.” As if she wouldn’t have brought it up knowing- but then, Penny was as sharp as her mother. She had to know anything she said would go in the Petunia-esque gossip vault Eloise doubtlessly maintained.

Harry shot Penny a look of gratitude. “I’ve got a big family back home,” Harry said. “Boarding school, er, served me quite well in that regard.”

“It’s the one benefit of sendin’ kids away, I think. I wanted all the girls to go to Catholic school, you know, one in town, so they’d be home, but-”

“Mamma, we’re not Catholic,” Penny said. It was clear from her tone she’d repeated this many times before. Gave Harry déjà vu, almost. _We are not, under any circumstances, moving to Wiltshire._ Which made Draco bring up moving at all a surprise, he’d done it twice since that day and Harry hadn’t dwelled on it, but maybe-

“Well, I know, honey, but they’re still Christian, and I don’t see how raisin’ kids in a tighter group with a more regular set of Christian values- will y’all be having anything to drink?”

Harry looked around; a waiter had arrived. “Just water, thanks.”

“Why don’t we get a pitcher of mimosas and one of bloody marys, and then if you want some they’ll be there? And coffee, of course. Theirs is good enough to meet even Penny’s exacting standards.”

The waiter accepted Eloise’s authority and asked, “And waters for the table, ma’am?”

“Sure. And lemonade for the girls.”

The waiter jotted this down and retreated.

“Mamma!” Penny said the second he’d gone. “Those are all sugar.”

“It’s just one, my dear. A treat for behavin’ well in church.”

“I’d hope Mary and Kayleigh are old enough not to need the motivation,” Penny said under her breath, but she was quelled by a chilly glance from Eloise.

The older woman cleared her throat and turned back to Harry. “So, I hear y’all two are business partners?”

Harry felt Draco’s head whip around towards Eloise. Even Ted looked interested on the topic. “Yes,” Draco said smoothly. “We’re opening a café. Hope to carry books eventually.”

“Now, that’s wonderful. I’m always tellin’ Ted there aren’t enough small businesses around here anymore.”

“We’re lucky enough to live in a neighborhood with a lot of them. We stay over the shop for now.”

“Property in London? That is a wonderful investment,” Eloise said, blatantly ignoring the ‘we live together’ bit and plowing into even more dangerous territory. “Smart. Children’ll be thanking you for it.”

As Harry debated whether or not to say ‘I’m sure they will’ or ‘who said anything about children,’ Ted contributed, “We’ve got a few properties in Dallas. We value our humble town, but if ever Penny’s family wanted to make a change-”

“Daddy!”

Harry was getting the impression that the purpose of this meal was to try and guilt Penny into doing something her mother wanted, regardless of how many times she’d shot it down. Something to do with Eloise knowing Penny respected him and Draco and it being rude for her to object too strongly in their presence. Could even be just wearing Penny down. Harry was no stranger to that.

The rest of brunch kept on like that. Eloise getting way too close to asking- or outright saying ‘I just don’t understand it’ followed by some euphemism for gayness- and dealing low blows to Penny in turns. Harry could see where she and Dudley got along; like him and Draco, there was something about being the target of a particular kind of ridicule that kindred people to each other. Penny and Dudley more than held their own, demolishing every one of Eloise’s (and once, Ted’s) suggestions with logic and facts. Between that and the hovering gay question, they got incredibly close to mentioning politics. To do so, of course, would be exceedingly rude (Harry learned from his few official fancy Malfoy dinners that politics could not be discussed during the meal itself), so nobody did. Mostly Harry just felt bad for the other half of the table. Draco was having to drive the conversation down there, and more often than not it devolved into him asking what the girls had been up to and them explaining some event they’d witnessed at school, or worse, bible study.

While the food was probably much more worth the money than their hotel breakfast had been, Harry had no doubt the waiters weren’t making as much as they should. That was why they didn’t have any employees lined up; Draco wanted the business to support them, and the business was currently a money pit. Might’ve been an appropriate conversational topic, but Eloise seemed keen on baiting Harry and Draco into saying something that’d get them in trouble- with who it wasn’t clear. Harry knew for a fact nothing he was likely to say would upset Penny, and if Eloise’s only goal was to get a rise out of them and prove their British gay arses weren’t fit for friendly conversation she had another thing coming. Draco seemed to be getting along fantastically with Penny’s sister, Leah, and her husband, Robert, whose respectively polished and timid demeanors made a hell of a lot of sense in the family dynamic.

Ted was the first to get up from the table.

By the time Eloise was delivering a speech on the relative merits of leftovers, Harry had decided this whole Thanksgiving thing might be easier than he thought. He explained as much once they’d got to the car.

“What do you mean?” Draco asked over Ella’s head. She was sandwiched in between them, her booster seat digging into Harry’s thigh. He didn’t mind much, seeing as it was definitely the safest place for her. Not like Harry or Draco left the house in unfamiliar environs- or familiar ones, for that matter- without their wands. Penny had also given Ella a phone game so they could discuss the meal’s events in relative security.

Harry smiled. “She’s so afraid of being rude I don’t think she’d say anything-”

“Harry,” Penny interjected, tone steady and serious, “it’s different in the house. We were out.”

Dudley glanced in the rearview, shooting a glance of confirmation from the passenger seat.

“Still think it’ll be alright,” Harry said.

“Why do all of you sound so sad? We have _seventeen hours left_ of the weekend,” Ella pointed out.

“She is not four and a half,” Draco said. “There’s no way.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Museum day,” Dudley said over breakfast next morning.

“Sorry?” Draco said, looking up from the paper. He’d taken to reading them when Dudley was done; said he liked to be ‘up on the news.’ No matter that news rarely had anything to do with them.

“Penny and I’ve taken off all this week, so-”

“Dud!” Harry said. He wasn’t sure what compelled him (probably a combination of familiarity and insanity), but it was alright, because Dudley smiled. “You shouldn’t have!”

“Yes I should. Need a break. They’ve hired two new interns, I’ve no idea why, it’s the end of the bloody school term and they’re stud-”

“You are not swearing in my house, Dudley Dursley, are you?” Penny’s voice drifted from the entryway; she’d just got back from dropping Ella.

“British swears don’t count,” Draco said, eyes still on the paper.

“I don’t know why you read that,” Penny said, glancing at Draco and Dudley both. “Worse than the local news.”

“What’s wrong with the local-?” But Harry realized his mistake and stopped himself. The thought of laying eyes on a Daily Prophet made his stomach turn, and that was the premier wizarding paper for the UK. Kind of a necessary read if you really did want to be up on the news, and that was awful enough.

Penny pointed at him. “Exactly. Have to keep an eye on things, but as far as actual news goes, I’m perfectly happy bouncing around the national channels. They don’t run a front page article about JFK every other week-”

“The American president?” Draco asked. “The one who was killed?”

“Yes,” Penny said. “Dallas is obsessed with him ‘cause he died here.”

“How d’you know about JFK?” Harry asked, intrigued.

Draco shrugged. “I read, too, you know. And I think one of us did it.”

“Make a whole lotta sense, considerin’ they never did figure out if there were two shooters, let alone who was behind it.” Penny pulled out the chair next to Draco and sat. “Did they talk about him this week?”

“Past two days. Anniversary.”

“Of course it is,” Penny said. “What do you two think about the museum?”

“Think it sounds wonderful,” Harry said. “Though you and Big D shouldn’t have taken off work on our account.”

Dudley glared at him, half annoyed, half astonished. Harry grinned back.

“Please, we both needed a break and it’s not as if they can’t handle things without me. Well, I mean, they can’t, but don’t tell them I told y’all that. We can go in tomorrow, Draco, alright?”

“Fantastic.” Draco set down his paper. “How far’s the museum?”

“About a half an hour, it’s in the city. They don’t open for a while, though. Oh, we can drive through downtown here! Isn’t much shopping there yet, and of course they won’t be open either, but you’ll get to see what it’s like.”

Harry’s first thought when they got downtown was ‘sounds about right,’ which, though it wasn’t logically correct, made sense to him anyway.

He’d seen plenty of small British towns in his postwar attempt to determine whether or not fucking off to one was a viable option for him. It hadn’t been, in the end; Harry needed people, a good number of them, even if living in Godric’s Hollow would bring its own set of benefits. He also never got the hang of most forms of wizarding travel. A lot simpler just to catch a bus to Ron and Hermione’s than have a Floo set up and have to schedule things (which Hermione was good at with work but _not at all at home_ ) and hope nothing came up to get in the way. Besides, planning time didn’t give Harry the opportunity to pop by and see their faces light up. Sometimes Harry reckoned living in Diagon was worth the occasional annoyance for that alone.

Driving through the American south had allowed Harry to see how it was different from the farmland he was used to, and that, in turn, gave him a rough idea of what the small towns might be like; like British ones but not at all, really. He recalled a few small-town-set films and thought that Penny’s downtown street squared with them.

Only difference was the traffic, which- there was none.

“I mean, the earliness doesn’t help,” Penny said. “But it isn’t exactly a hub. They’re tryin’ to revitalize. Worked pretty well for some neighborin’ towns, no reason to think it won’t work here.”

“You’ve already got the sidewalks,” Draco said.

“Exactly. Better fix all that up before gettin' businesses in than havin’ to disrupt everythin’ to repave.” Penny pulled into a parallel parking spot. “I’d suggest we walk around a little, but it only makes sense later when everything’s open. Not to mention there are a couple better squares nearby- livelier, you know? Think we might visit one with Ella on Wednesday. Or Friday, but that’s a whole ‘nother thing.”

“Isn’t Thursday Thanksgiving?” Draco asked.

“Yeah,” Penny said.

“The Dursleys,” Harry said, realization dawning.

“They get in on Wednesday, and mum always likes a day out with Penny. She’ll have school next week, so no matter how long they stay…” Dudley trailed off.

“Right,” Harry said. “And what does that mean for us, exactly?”

“Probably means you two and I’ll go Black Friday shopping while Dudley recovers from all the relatives on Thursday,” Penny said lightly.

Harry was staring at nothing.

Draco’s hand was on his knee. “Alright?”

Harry smiled, fake and unconvincing, and turned his eyes back to the interior of the car. “M’fine. We can find a hotel while we’re in the city today. Penny, does that sound-”

“Absolutely,” Penny said in a rush. “Not a problem. They may be booked up this close to the holiday- shit- excuse me, I just didn’t realize, I can’t believe I forgot-”

“Penny,” Harry said gently.

She glanced over her shoulder.

“It’s alright. We may not need one anyway, right?”

“Right,” Dudley said. “They’ve had theirs booked for months. Doubt they’d waste the money and cancel just because Penny asked again as soon as they got here.”

“Yes,” Penny said. “We can leave the house. Probably will, actually, since Petunia’s all about goin’ out and- or you can leave the house. Oh, I don’t mean to kick you out, I just-”

“Penny,” Harry repeated. “It’ll be fine.”

By the time they got her to stop fretting about sleeping arrangements, they were halfway to the museum. Dudley was the one who finally changed the subject, talking about the temporary exhibition and how his coworker had used a bunch of probably made-up artsy-sounding words to impress everybody at the office. “Didn’t work,” he said. “Valiant effort, mind, but in the end even I can come up with something better than ‘baliage.’”

“I think it’s a real word, sweetheart,” Penny said.

“Even if it is, doubt it’s on the informational plaque.”

“Do you have a good library?” Draco asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Brilliant. Got a few of them, actually.”

“We can use it to solve once and for all how legitimate the word is.” Draco leaned close to Harry, dropping his voice to the softest whisper, “Not to mention it’s a good place to escape if we need it.”

Harry’s eyes darted to the front seat, but Penny didn’t seem to have heard. She had that politely-ignorant expression people put on when they were trying to be proper about intimate interactions. Her attitude made Harry think of something he hadn’t considered much in the uncertain spaces they’d spent time since then, or the comfort of Dudley and Penny’s home. “Penny? D’you think Draco and I can hold hands? At the museum?”

Penny’s head jerked like she wanted to stare straight at him but realized she was driving and that it’d be dangerous. She looked in the rearview instead. “I think you’ll be alright. I can’t say for sure, I mean, I’m no expert, I just- and at home...” Penny bit her lip.

“Yeah?” Harry hadn’t noticed anything and Draco definitely hadn’t or he’d have said something to Harry, but that didn’t erase all potential uncertainty. They’d initially felt their presence was overwhelming enough and refrained from doing anything too sappy outside the comfort of the guest room. As of late they’d been leaning on each other, light touches, and that sort of thing, but only in the house. Not to mention Harry was ways willing to use magic if a situation called for it; didn’t mean he wanted to have to, but still. Not like he wasn’t paying attention.

Penny was staring so hard at him in the mirror that Dudley put a hand on the wheel just in case. “If anyone says a word they’re _out_. You two are family, and you will feel comfortable in our home, no matter who I have to kick out to accomplish that. We clear?”

“Yes ma’am,” Harry said with a watery smile. He’d tried to tell Penny and Dudley how much their generosity meant about a million times, as had Draco, but every attempt had been either brushed off or met with the unwavering sincerity that Penny displayed just then. Sometimes the sincerity came with the implication ‘of course you’re family now stop insulting us by thanking us for common decency’ but honestly Harry was still surprised when Hermione gave him a suggestive look about Draco, so he was going to need more than one trip to get used to it.

Penny injected some sunshine into all of their moods as they walked up from the parking garage, reminding them all this was supposed to be a nice double-date-like thing but also a family outing and if anybody cried for any reason other than art appreciation or laughter she’d be having words with them. The three others agreed, and they headed into the museum fully prepared to have a good time being impressed by art.

“This place is amazing,” Dudley said. He and Harry had fallen into step near each other, following the same path of perusal.

“It really is.” They were looking at a painting that took up most of the wall, a landscape that made Harry feel like he was peering through a window, so exact were the brushstrokes. “Had a lot of paintings at school. They were different, though. More- well, they moved.”

“Did they?” Dudley smiled. “Your lot don’t have televisions, though.”

“No. Our paintings just talk. Though we can. Normally magic interferes with electronics, but if you ward them to hell it’s fine. Draco and I’ve got a phone line, actually.”

“How come you never called?”

Harry shot him a look.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I wouldn’t have known what to say, either. But you’ll have to give me the number now, you know.”

They stepped on to the next work, this one much smaller and painted with spidery grace. Harry changed the subject. “I don’t go enough. In London. Draco loves it, and I do, too, we just...” Harry trailed off. They got too comfortable. Too safe in the grooves of their lives to stray into muggle London more than they already did.

Dudley looked like he understood. “Never appreciated it before,” he said. “I had to come somewhere new, to see someplace new before I could grasp what I’d had. London’s amazing, isn’t it?”

“It is. So is Hogwarts.”

Dudley shot him a sidelong grin. “A lot older, I’m guessing?”

“Loads. Or the castle is, at least. I don’t know about the rest. Know it’s been there a while, but… don’t know how old London is, either, really. I should. I live there. I like living there. I have a house in the city.”

“I’d ask to come and stay, but-”

“No, a real house, I mean. And you could. It’s big enough that even your dad and I wouldn’t be stepping on each other’s toes all the time if we both had to be there. My godfather left it to me. I’ve thought about living there, but it’s just… too big. Too empty.”

“Is that where you went?” Dudley asked.

Harry didn’t know when he meant. Whether he was talking about all the time off school Harry spent away from Privet Drive, or when they’d moved away. After. Didn’t matter, really. “I lived there for a while. Couldn’t stay, though, wasn’t safe. And I went back, after the war. It was a place to go. The only place to go, only place of my own, anyway. But a flat was better. Warmer. Didn’t need all the space.”

“But you kept it?”

“Yeah. Sirius’s house, my godfather’s house. The house that kept us safe more than once. Of course I kept it.”

A pause. Then, “It’s a good investment.”

Harry laughed. Turned, took in Dudley’s expression, and laughed again. Then they were both cracking up in front of a Mondrian, drawing alarmed stares from passerby and probably alerting the guards, and it felt good. Nice. Normal, even. Like family.

When Dudley caught his breath he looked around. “Oh, man. Where’ve they gone?”

Harry caught sight of Penny and Draco a few pieces away. Looking for all the world like they hadn’t noticed the two full grown adults laughing themselves silly. Although if Harry was reading Draco’s profile right he was about to burst out laughing himself. Harry nodded in their direction.

“Oh, perfect. Her social sensibilities’ve been disturbed. She can’t stand to be seen with me.”

“Expect it’s the same for him,” Harry said. Draco had turned so his face was visible, and even from there Harry could read his expression: amused, indulgent, and just a little fond. “Don’t think they’ll mind,” he said warmly. “Not really, anyway.”

“No. Expect they won’t.” Dudley was smiling, then, gazing at Penny, only love in it. “Well. Think we should move. Already made a scene.”

Harry snorted and followed him across the gallery.

They had a pleasant day, and by sunset they were rolling back into town to pick up Ella. She was convinced one day of school was enough and she needn’t go on Tuesday, too, but after Draco explained life was no fun at all without school (which Harry could not understand how he managed), she begrudgingly agreed that one more day wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Dudley was feeling lazy about dinner again, so this time they got proper takeaway.

“Is America known for its Chinese food?” Harry asked.

Dudley smirked. “Is London?”

Before Harry could decide whether to concede or argue the point, a little buzz came from his pocket. “Oh,” he said, “Got a call.” He waited until he and Draco were safely out of Ella’s sightlines to pull the portable Floo from his pocket. “Ron?”

“Oi, Harry! Good to see you. How’re you doing?”

“I’m well. How are you?” Harry took a seat on the office chair; it was the safest location for Ella-free conversation and/or magical stain removal, as Ella respected her parents’ seriousness about work enough not to come bursting in unnecessarily.

“Fine, I’m fine. Have you seen her yet?” Ron could only be talking about one person. Harry had already checked in with him and Hermione a few times, and it wasn’t like they didn’t know him inside out.

Harry heaved a breath. “No.”

Ron sighed. “How are you feeling?” it came out unexpectedly gentle, like- well, like he knew how Harry _might_ be feeling and didn’t want to make it worse.

“I’m alright, Ron.” When Draco, too, looked askance at this, Harry shooed him away.

Ron sighed again. Waited. Said, “D’you ever get tired of saying it?”

Harry felt a bloom of warmth that only deep understanding could bring. “All the time.”

“I think I’m gonna quit.” Ron’s voice wasn’t uncertain when he said it, or sad or upset or anything like that; it was clear, already decided despite the qualifier. As serious as Ron ever sounded.

“Beat duty too boring for you?” Harry asked, but he was just offering Ron an out.

He didn’t take it. “No. I think I’m done.” There was a hint of satisfaction in it, too, and relief. A hard decision well and gladly made.

“Good for you, mate.”

“Yeah, right. Leaving in the prime of my career, really brilliant move.”

“No, I mean it! You’re a good auror, no one’s denying that. It’s just… it never seemed like you like it.”

“I don’t. I didn’t.”

“What’s Hermione say?”

Ron smiled. “She says if I don’t stay home with Rose a while for both our sakes she may have to quit too.”

Harry shook his head. “Never.”

“No, but I’d be stupid not to listen to her.”

Harry grinned. “Par for the course, innit?”

Ron snorted. “I should hope so. If not, we’d’ve died long before now.”

“Wouldn’t have made it past first year.” Harry smiled wider, remembering. “Even after all this time she’s still getting us out of trouble.”

“Gets us into it half the time, mind, but yeah,” Ron said. “What would we do without her?”

“Dunno. Listen, Ron, it’s really good to see you, but I’ve just realized I haven’t told anyone that story-”

“Except for Draco.”

“He doesn’t count, but yeah, and I think-”

“Go,” Ron said.

“Really?”

“I’ll be fine. And you’re only gone what, another week? I get to see you all the time. He’s only got you once a year or something.”

“Right,” Harry said. “Thanks. And Ron?”

“Love you, too, mate. Now go. I’ll see you at Christmas.”

Before Harry could protest that he was absolutely going to see Ron sooner than that, thank you very much, he ended the call. Harry wandered into the kitchen feeling bewildered.

“News?” Dudley asked, worry audible.

Harry felt a flood of gratitude. For everything and everyone. “No. Just good friends, is all. Family back home. And I’ve got to tell you a- er- grown-up story.” Because explaining a troll to Ella did not fit into the don’t confuse her plan.

Penny seemed to get the idea. “Sounds interestin’ for us and terribly boring for Ella.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “I know grown-ups have fun, Mom. You don’t need to lie about it.”

When Ella finally went to bed, Harry told Penny and Dudley the troll story. Draco’s leg was draped over his on the sofa and he stared at Harry the whole time. The other two were enraptured, and ended up sitting up with Harry and Draco listening to a bunch of other Hogwarts stories and telling a few of their own from Wesleyan and beforehand. Harry learned that Dudley and Piers still talked and the second Dudley’d said he was moving the rest of his school friends had wiped their hands of him. He learned that Dudley’s accounting friends were some of the best he’d ever had and he didn’t even mind golfing with his coworkers because as long as one of the fun ones came along they had a good time no matter how badly they did. Harry found out Penny had been a hopscotch champion until grade five, and that they were thinking of getting Ella a puppy for Christmas but weren’t sure she was ready for one yet.

They finally decided to go to bed at around one. Dudley said goodnight and smacked him on the arm. Penny gave them this look- one Harry was used to seeing sometimes on Hermione and occasionally on Ron and from multiple people every time he dragged Draco to the Burrow, which was every weekend, by then. The look said ‘I am very happy you’re happy’ in a way only someone who loved you could really mean.

Harry fell asleep faster than he almost ever did, curled up in Draco’s side and smiling into his pajamas.

Next morning they came downstairs to find Penny had commandeered the kitchen table. “Sorry, y’all will have to eat at the counter or in the livin’ room or something.”

Harry wandered closer to find recipe pages, grocery lists, and furniture diagrams laid out in front of her. “Looks complicated.”

“It is. Y’all can go out with Dud if you want, I’ll be bouncing around like a maniac all day tryin’ to get this-”

“Nonsense,” Draco said, dropping into the chair beside her. “We’ll help. My family is very into parties like this, and Harry’s family is… big. We’re great at this.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not.” Dudley came down the hall from the office, still, like all but Penny, in pajamas. “I just do what she tells me and weigh in on the off chance she doesn’t have an immediate answer to her own question.”

“I’m gonna be talkin’ to myself a lot today. I recommend you follow Dud’s lead unless you have somethin’ real insightful to say, because I can get a little bitchy when I’m plannin’ a skirmish in my house.”

“We can tell. You just swore,” Harry pointed out, smiling.

“Damnit! Oh, Harry, just- make sure I only do it in the house! And when Ella’s not home!”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Permission to interrupt, then? Since I’m assuming we’ll be going to at least six stores to get all this stuff?”

“Yes. Absolutely. I’ve got about three hours before there’s anything I need to cook, and of course half of the stuff we can’t do ‘til tomorrow, but-”

“Yes we can,” Draco said. “Ella’s not here.”

Harry glanced between her and Penny. “Er-”

But Penny was springing up, gathering Draco into a hug. She’d caught onto the ‘using magic to help’ thing so fast it nearly gave Harry whiplash. “You are ridiculous. I cannot even believe- and I- but- you're sure it’s alright?” Penny pulled back, crease between her eyebrows.

“I cook. And you’ve been read in. I’m sure,” Draco said.

“Good.” Penny looked relieved, even though Harry was pretty sure by this point Dudley would be doing most of the cooking. “That’ll save us stayin’ up late tomorrow night, since if we’re not with them ‘til at least six tonight I'll be accused of denyin’ people quality time with Ella.” Penny sank into her chair and looked around the table. “That makes my job much easier, but the grocery stores aren’t open this early so usually we do the furniture first- how familiar are you two with strategic conversational arrangement?”

“Very,” Draco said. “There’re about two people in the extended family I can let my father talk to when he deigns to show up at a larger gathering.”

“Good. I mean, not about your daddy, just- it’d really help if you could be my lieutenant here.” If Harry hadn’t seen the aforementioned Lucius-inclusive social gatherings in action he wouldn’t have believed Penny’s sincerity. Some people needed to be kept away from each other.

“Not an issue. Lead on, my lady. Coffee?” Draco was already lifting her cup.

“Yes, thank you, absolutely- Harry.”

“Penny.”

“Can you and Dudley move all the furniture like this while Draco and I go over the menu? But don’t make it too perfect because chances are it’ll get rearranged a few more times before tomorrow?”

“Just let me have a nip of toast and we’ll be on it.”

Harry was pretty used to going along with psychotic family gathering preparations, so the furniture thing didn’t surprise him in the slightest.

The grocery store, though.

They were two days out from the event, and the place was an absolute madhouse. Harry tried not to do much in the days leading up to a holiday; the pre-Thanksgiving insanity at the Kroger reminded him why. Maybe it had something to do with it being a bigger food holiday than Christmas was for England, but trying to estimate how many people were in the grocery store made Harry’s head spin. There were three carts remaining in the massive corral when they made it through the doors (after walking quite a distance through the packed parking lot). Penny instructed Harry and Dudley each to get one and handed Draco page two of her shopping list. That was just as well, because it would be a miracle for the four of them to stick together given how many people were inside. Traffic was further complicated by the sheer number of children around.

“Up and coming city, kinda unavoidable,” Penny said as Harry narrowly missed crashing into a child that looked about Ella’s age and was sprinting through the cheese section. “I’m gonna give y’all two my phone again, and we’ll meet up at the checkout. Call Dud if you need anything.”

“Right,” Harry said, pocketing the phone and turning to Draco. “What now, exactly?”

“We’re on boxed first, come on.” Draco grabbed the end of the cart and started leading Harry down the packed front aisle of the store. About five seconds in Harry wondered whether being able to easily see aisle signs was worth having to weave around the overflowing till lines.

“This is why we don’t leave the flat the week of Christmas, isn’t it?” Harry asked.

“Yep.” Technically they did leave the flat by Floo for all obligatory holiday gatherings, but not even Draco found it necessary to point that out. “We’ve got to get stuffing, which she said would be with the soup, and then there’s something called cranberry sauce which is apparently indispensable.”

“How many people did she say were coming?” Harry asked.

“Dunno. There’s all the usual suspects, us five, seven, nine, that makes thirteen, but then her mother’s sister lives in California now, so her whole brood comes over, too, which is… twelve more, I think? Then they invite people from work who have nowhere else to go, so I reckon that’s twenty adults and any number of children in the house at any given moment.”

“Huh,” Harry said. Though he had been warned of the scale of the event, he hadn’t considered how different it would be when he didn’t already know everyone. Or know of them, at least. “And if they say anything against us she’ll kick them out?”

“I believe she used the word ‘banned,’ actually. Like, forever.” Draco was loading boxes of stuffing into the cart. “There. Where’s the canned… it’d be fruit, wouldn’t it?”

About two items away from the bottom of the list (and with a nearly full cart), Penny’s phone rang. “Hello?”

“We’re by frozens. How’re y’all doing?”

“Fine. Just a couple more things.”

“Great. Let’s meet by the toiletries section before we pick a line, don’t think there’ll be much traffic over there.” She hung up.

“We’re meeting them at toiletries when we’re done,” Harry explained.

“Good. I’m out of shampoo.”

Harry shouldn’t have been floored by the price of two carts’ worth of feast plus the inevitable leftovers for everyone. Molly had a remarkably American philosophy about feeding people. He’d been on a grocery trip with her once. Really. Just because it was six times what he and Draco spent on a big grocery day- “You’re cooking for thirty people?”

“Give or take.” Penny shot a worried glance in the rearview mirror. “I wasn’t unclear about how many-?”

“Not at all,” Harry said. “Pretty sure our extended family kicks it up to at least fifty, if it’s a big enough birthday.”

Penny laughed. “Now that I can’t do. Need a bigger house and ten more arms.”

She’d probably be well-served by the extra arms either way. The kitchen, which had been messy enough after the few rounds of baking Penny and Draco had done that morning, looked like a disaster area once the proper cooking started. Harry had to remind himself that this wasn’t even everything- just everything that could be pre-done or done and then set under a stasis charm per Draco’s advice.

Somehow, they got the place clean by the time Ella got home, all save for the cooling rack of sugar cookies. “Ready to decorate, baby?” Penny asked, already mixing the third icing color.

“I’ll only help if I get to eat some.”

“Alright, but we have to save some for the party.”

Draco looked at Harry, who looked at Dudley, who looked at Draco, who smiled. “I think we can manage a few more batches.”


	8. Chapter 8

Wednesday was their coldest day in Texas yet.

Harry might have said it had something to do with the day’s events if he hadn’t learned from Professor Trelawney not to put much stock in premonitions like that. Also there were storm clouds, which tended to be a legitimate scientific reason for temperature change.

Vernon and Petunia caught an early flight and landed in time for them all to have late lunch. Harry would have flatly declined the offer, except going into Dallas gave him and Draco a chance to find somewhere else to sleep in case Vernon and Petunia decided to take Penny up on her hospitality, and Harry would rather get the thing done sooner than later. They went somewhere even more uppity than Eloise’s brunch joint, to a steakhouse with a long reputation and prices so high they made even Draco cringe. On the lead-in no one had said much more than ‘hello,’ ‘this is Draco,’ on Harry’s part- or maybe Penny’s, he was having a hard time keeping track with how often she was talking- and a few ambiguous grunts from Vernon. Despite the whole situation being absolutely bonkers, they didn’t have room in one car to fit everyone (thank Merlin), not to mention the escape plan, so Harry and Draco had given the others a half-hour lead and met them at the steakhouse. They’d got there first, and after five minutes of deep breaths Harry was able to go with small talk instead of screaming when the others walked up.

Vernon was surprisingly chummy with the waiters; Petunia had a look of restrained distaste, like she was just managing to keep her expression polite. Age had served neither of them well. Despite having lost a considerable amount of weight, Vernon looked twenty years older rather than six. Petunia had aged a little, though if Harry had to guess she’d look a lot younger with a neutral expression. Penny had been talking a mile a minute since they got there. By the time drinks arrived, the younger London contingent had yet to be asked anything by anyone other than Ella. Unfortunately the arrival of drinks meant the ordering of meals and the removal of menus, not to mention Penny deserved a break even if Harry was the only one willing to give it to her.

For some ungodly reason they got appetizers first, meaning the meal would last probably two hours. This didn’t seem to sink in for Vernon until the waiter was gone again.

He cleared his throat, realizing he, too, would have to speak sooner or later. “So, Dudley, been getting on alright at work?”

“Alright, Dad. How’s Florida?”

“Hot. But we like the sun, you know? And the beaches.” Vernon’s eyes were flitting between Harry and Dudley.

Harry figured he may as well have a go. “Grunnings moved to America, then?”

Vernon snorted. “No. We had some friends here, not that it’s any of your business. Expect you’re doing something unfit for polite company?”

“I run a bookshop,” Harry said. He was surprised how easy it was; maybe it had to do with it not being Petunia, or maybe it was just that this specific source of anger had had enough time to evaporate- probably that. Honestly given up caring much at sixteen, least about Vernon. “Draco’s opening a café.”

“Wise investment, city like that. If you can keep it running, of course.” Vernon’s tone made it clear he doubted that.

“My family’s well-versed in business,” Draco said smoothly. He’d been chatting on and off with Ella, who he was seated next to, but based on his current expression Harry was guessing the easy conversational defeat he anticipated drawing from Vernon seemed at least entertaining enough to try. “Got quite a few properties. Acres in Wiltshire, old family estate, things like that.”

Vernon was shifting his eyes between Harry and Draco, now, like there was something off about them (beyond their being wizards) that he couldn’t put his finger on.

Petunia beat him to it. “Done better than my sister, at least, that’s something.” She sounded a little bitter.

Harry shot her a warning look, let the razor edge creep into his voice. “I’m sure you’re proud how well Dudley’s done.”

Petunia deflated a little, uncrossing her arms. She patted Penny’s hand for good measure. “Yes, of course. We’re so lucky to have them. And Ella’s a brilliant little darling, isn’t she?” That was love. Harry’d seen it on her face plenty of times when she looked at Dudley in the past, even if it was buried under a whole lot of complicated other stuff now.

Ella, ever the detective, stopped coloring for a moment to look at her grandmother. “I love you, too, Gran.”

For the first time, Harry noticed the dawning realization on Vernon’s face. He was rapidly going from red to purple. Never a good sign, especially where Harry was concerned.

The adults were strategically ignoring him. Ella wasn’t. “What’s wrong, Granpa?”

“Nothing,” Vernon hissed.

Harry was pretty sure Petunia kicked him under the table. She was opening her mouth, presumably to say something deflecting, but then-

“Makes sense, I suppose.” The color was receding from Vernon’s face much more slowly than it’d got there. He was squinting at Harry, now, with a nasty, satisfied expression. “Never liked that lot to begin with. Works out in the end, though, doesn’t it? Ending a couple of abnormal lines.” He was doing a remarkably good job of keeping his words beyond Ella’s understanding but still getting his point across.

Then again, Harry’d always known he was skilled at cruelty. He kept his tone even. “Don’t know what you mean.”

Vernon persisted in his piggy squint. “What?”

“Figured you didn’t like any lot I belonged to anyway, but seeing as you’ve decided to make a note of this one, may as well inform you you’re technically wrong.”

“How so?”

“Well, for one, neither of my lots are especially exclusive. I’m technically half.”

Vernon’s face was turning purple again.

“Of both, actually. And if we don’t give our mums grandkids they’ll never forgive us, not to mention I think we’d make decent fathers, so.” Harry shrugged.

Vernon, who looked on the brink of total implosion, gritted out, “Need to use the restroom,” and fled the table.

Petunia sighed and gave Harry a look. “Must you?”

“Didn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression.” Harry looked at her coolly. Draco was squeezing his hand under the table, tight enough to hurt. Harry found himself almost smiling. “What do you think, then?”

Petunia narrowed her eyes, like the question was some sort of test. “Does it matter?”

“No. Just curious. And seems the thing to ask. Pleasant conversation, and all that.”

Draco’s hand was shaking. Barely holding in laughter, if Harry had to guess.

Petunia granted Draco a glance, just long enough to say, ‘you’re not fooling anyone, either of you,’ then returned her eyes to Harry. “Have you ever stopped?”

“What, enjoying getting a rise out of him? No, never.”

“Making trouble.”

“Been doing it for twenty-three years. Seems a shame to stop now.”

Penny regained control of the conversation as the appetizers arrived, managing to engage everyone present in some form of civil discussion, though Vernon seemed unwilling to do more than mutter for the first ten minutes after his return.

Despite the continuous exchange of grating comments between Harry and Vernon for the duration of the meal, neither of them could say anything too harsh with Ella there, and Harry had done quite well for himself, even if he and Draco were years off from taking on the responsibility of another human being. Petunia seemed to have accepted something by the end; whether it was this or the fact that Harry wasn’t going to cast a spell or summon an attack on all of them, he couldn’t be quite sure. She had to have known it was over, the war, it couldn’t have been a threat anymore or he wouldn’t have got within a hundred miles of them, she couldn’t have not known. Though maybe it hadn’t occurred to Petunia that Harry’d be that concerned about her safety.

To everyone’s great relief, Petunia couldn’t accept putting Penny out when they already had so many relatives coming for the holiday. “I’m sorry, Penny, but we really must insist- non-refundable charges, you know?”

“Perfectly alright. Wouldn’t want the place too full anyway, in case the cousins decide to sleep over.”

“They might do that?” Harry asked Dudley under his breath.

“Even if they do, your room is safe, I promise.”

Now that Harry was sure he could stand to stay somewhat near them for at least a few days without resorting to blows, he and Draco were free to roam the city as they pleased. Penny had told them about a very good bookstore that had a lovely bakery inside and given them her cell phone, again, and Harry repeated the directions back and promised they’d use her GPS if they had trouble getting home.

Penny leaned in as the others got in the car, “I don’t care how late y’all stay out, and if you need any advice on somewhere to go just give me a call. Now I know it’s a Wednesday night, and I’m not sayin’ y’all should go sprintin’ through the streets shouting or anything, but as long as you call if you’re not gonna be home by ten-”

Harry was smiling for the first time in hours. “I think it’ll be alright. And we’re not. Out late often people, I mean.”

“Alright, but Harry Potter, if the need strikes and you do not go out, I swear to all that is good in this world I’ll-”

Harry kissed her on the cheek, which shut her up. Even blushed a little. “See you at home.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Penny said, and went to go drive her wonderful family and crazy in-laws to wherever it was they were going next.

Harry and Draco got in the car. Just sat there. Finally Harry said, “Know any wizard spots in Dallas?”

Draco laughed. “No. Know any gay wizard spots in Dallas?”

“Not at all. Nor any non-wizard gay ones, while we’re on it. Did a shit job of research. Didn’t really think that far.” Harry started the car. “Bookstore?”

“Absolutely.”

It was the biggest bookstore Harry had ever seen.

He did live in London, where space was a bit of an issue. But Fluorish and Blotts. Extension charms. Fucking… Harry was impressed by this place, and he’d spent more than a few days in the Hogwarts library.

“Shall I get a cart?” Draco asked.

“They have carts?” Harry looked over his shoulder.

Draco was already pushing one. “Yep. Benefits of America, I suppose.”

“D’you think we’ll be able to-”

“If Hermione could carry that blasted bag, I think I can get a plane to carry as many of these as you see fit to take home.”

Harry was trying very hard not to get his hopes up. “Can’t charm a plane.”

“No. But we can charm these.” Draco swept a hand out, indicating the whole store. “Not to mention I may be owed a favor by someone in the Department of Magical Transportation and you’re better at fire-warding books than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Harry laughed, letting the hope flood in. “You wouldn’t.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Come on. We’ve got an inventory to build up.”

By the time they had to stop for a snack, it was four thirty in the afternoon and the cart was looking heavy, though Draco hadn’t complained. Harry ripped off a piece of croissant and stared longingly into the cart. “How are we going to get all these home again?”

“I texted Dudley. He said we could use their garage until the family clears out.”

Harry patted his pockets. “When did you get the phone? When did you learn how to text?”

“You’re very distracted around this many books. S’quite adorable.”

Harry made sure his wand and the portable Floo were still there, just in case, and then threw back the last of his tea. “You’re a menace to society.”

“I know. S’why you married me.”

“We aren’t even engaged,” Harry said.

“We have, and I quote, been engaged since we told Molly Weasley.”

Harry sighed. “Ready for another round?”

“I didn’t break open that international account for nothing.”

They had to cast three expansion charms and five lightening charms to get them all in the car.

“D’you think two carts was overkill?” Harry asked, staring into the completely-full boot- it extended well into the backseat with all the magical extensions- of the rental.

“Nah,” Draco said. “S’fine. Lightening charms’ll last until we get home, and I doubt they’ll be in danger resting quietly in the garage for a few days. Penny did say her relatives will’ve cleared out by Saturday.”

“And they’re getting in tomorrow?” Harry clarified, finally closing the trunk.

“I think so. And whoever sleeps over she’s made it very clear she has no more space, so I think they might pawn the kids off on her and- you know what? I need to make a phone call. Stay out here.” Draco got in the car and locked the doors.

Harry spent ten minutes mouthing swear words at him before Draco unlocked the doors. “There. But I’m driving.”

“What was that about?” Harry asked.

“We’re going on a date.”

“What?”

“I’d’ve thrown in a night at a hotel, but the timing doesn’t actually work, not to mention if I left Penny alone with however many nieces and nephews I’d be a heartless bint.”

Harry opened his mouth, shut it. Opened it again. “Sorry, what’s going on?”

“Tonight I’m taking you on a date. I wanted a casino round two scenario, but, since it’s a holiday, the hotels really are jam-packed. Best I could do was a dinner reservation. Actually, I did find one place, and I think we can do Friday, but-”

“Slow down,” Harry said. “Chronologically, please?”

“Right. I love you very much and know this is going to be overwhelming for both of us. In anticipation of that and because I love you very much, I have booked a very nice dinner for us tonight- not too late, I know, we’ve got cookies to replenish. Then, on Friday, once the brunt of the insanity is behind us, we’re going to swoop into one of the recently-vacated rooms and do a proper little getaway for as many nights as we want. That will give us the stamina for however many days we want to stay at theirs before we leave. Alright?”

“Sorry, when did you plan all this?”

Draco shrugged. “When I was baking with Penny. She knows, like, everyone.”

“Everyone who?”

“Loads of businesses. She’s in hospitality, technically, so she’s spoken to just about every fancy anything person in a thirty-mile radius.”

Harry was still trying to process it. “Give me a minute?”

“Yeah.”

On the one hand, getting away with Draco for any time at all sounded wonderful- Harry (and Draco if he had to guess) had finally started feeling cooped up, and even though he had his marvelous bisexual jean jacket they were definitely staying long enough for culture shock to be hitting pretty hard by then. On the other hand, Harry didn’t think taking time off immediately before the big party would help the way the casino’d helped stall his anxiety about getting there in the first place, and the thought of leaving Penny alone to face the swarm of relatives, two of whom Harry would rather not have faced under less stressful circumstances, would end up making him feel worse rather than better. The only problem was, if they did just wait and decide to cap the vacation off with some plush hotel in New York or something, Harry’d just end up feeling like shit, because he actually loved his family and being away from them and not being home didn’t seem like it’d make for an enjoyable few days. Finally he said, “How do you know me so well?”

“Ten years of rivalry, probably six of being in love with you, and three of having you love me back.”

Harry smiled. “Wrong. Three of you knowing I loved you back.”

“Yeah, but does it really count-”

“Of course it counts, you idiot,” Harry said, and kissed him.

After about a half an hour of that, which Draco had apparently planned for because he was an absolute wanker, they headed for the restaurant. The second they got to their table Draco cast about six charms.

“What did you just do?”

“Made it so that we can be as disgusting as we want, short of hands-in-pants when the waiter’s here, and no one’ll notice.”

“You’re- come here,” Harry said, and pulled him in for a deep kiss that would most certainly get them stared at, if not kicked out.

Except no one was paying them any attention.

“I love you,” Harry said. “You’re an idiot, truly, but I love you more than anything else on this earth.”

“Come back?”

“Gladly.”

Every once in a while Harry would stop gazing hopelessly into Draco’s eyes to contemplate how they were even getting through the meal- because really, between the constant snogging and sappy bullshit it was a miracle the dinner part was happening at all. They’d each had a glass of wine at some point, and dessert was excellent, and Harry felt so happy and safe and warm and loved if someone tried to tell him he’d feel like he had that morning and like he had just then in the same day he wouldn’t have been able to believe them.

“You did so much for me today,” Harry finally said. Draco did so much for him always, but today especially.

“Didn’t.”

“No, you did. This whole trip. You did all of this, for me.”

“Nonsense. Needed the vacation.”

Harry was holding his hand, staring at him with the fond sort of wonder he always did when someone he loved surprised him in the best way. “I didn’t see it before, not really, because I’ve been so caught up, but you- you left everything for me.”

“Blaise was going to do the work anyway.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry said, meaning it. “You abandoned it, mid-project- and then wouldn’t even postpone it, you passed off your most important thing to someone else just because I-”

“You’re my most important thing,” Draco said.

Harry laughed, a quiet, disbelieving sound. Then, staring hard and holding Draco’s hand tight enough to hurt, “You’re going to marry me, right? Because if you don’t, I swear to Merlin’s-”

Draco cut him off with a kiss. Harry let him do it, then pulled back to see him smiling. “Couldn’t get you to shut up otherwise,” Draco said.

“Could’ve said ‘yes.’”

“Yes, then.”

Harry couldn’t let go of him. Not when they stumbled to the door, drunk on happiness, not after they got in the shitty but still valeted rental car, Harry almost crying out in protest for the three seconds of lost contact, and not on the drive home, when Harry leaned as close as he could without climbing into the driver’s seat.

They pulled up in front of the house as the clock on the dashboard went from 9:07 to 9:08. “Made curfew,” Draco said.

“I don’t want to let go of you,” Harry said.

“So don’t.” When Harry looked askance at this, he added, “They’re not here, and even if they were-”

“Oh, even if they were,” Harry repeated, thinking he’d probably have done it but getting immediately distracted because Draco was coming around the car to get him, wrapping his arm around Harry’s waist as they went up the front path, and if Harry hadn’t experienced feeling this happy within spitting distance of all his blood relatives he wouldn’t have thought it possible. He leaned into Draco’s ear and said, “I want to suck you off.”

“Christ,” Draco said, going very red very quickly, but he didn’t say anything else.

Harry was beaming as they went through the door.

“Are you drunk?” Dudley asked on getting sight of him.

“No,” Harry said. “You’ve seen me drunk. I’m much more coherent than this.”

“If either of y’all has decided to go crazy and ingest wizard mushrooms before coming back to my house-”

“Penny, Penny, no, it’s fine, I’m just engaged,” Harry stage whispered.

“Was that not already a done deal? Because sometimes when you look at each other- or actually all the time- your expressions are so sweet I wanna puke, and I’m a romantic don’t get me wrong, but-”

“He told me about Friday,” Harry said.

Penny glared at Draco. “Draco Malfoy, you said that was gonna be a surprise!”

“Harry doesn’t like surprises.”

“No, I do not.” Harry was back to hanging onto Draco with both hands, which he knew didn’t really help the ‘I’m not high I promise’ argument but he didn’t care.

“Well, I made the new batch a sugar cookies, and I can promise y’all will have at least until ten tomorrow morning to be all sappy until anybody runs screamin’ through the house, so-”

“Who’s going to run screaming through the house?” Draco asked, looking alarmed.

“That’s the thing, sweetheart. You never know until the day of.”

“Right, good, so anyway,” Harry said, and began dragging Draco up the stairs.

“Thanks,” Draco said, handing Penny her phone back. “And I’m sure the cookies are lovely.”

“Y’all need anything else? Bottle of wine? Condoms?”

For once, Draco was speechless.

“Thanks,” Harry said. “Send a Patronus if we do.”

“You still have to show me that,” Penny said. She had to crane her neck because they were already upstairs.

“Soon as the family’s cleared out, I promise,” Harry said.

The first words out of Draco’s mouth, once they’d closed and locked the door behind them, were, “What is wrong with you?”

“Soooo much,” Harry said, knocking him back onto the bed.

“Can I take off my shoes first?”

“Depends. What do I get for it?”

“Less of me complaining.”

This, Harry had to concede, was worth the minute delay.

“Did I tell you I love you?” Harry asked. He’d just collapsed onto Draco after- well, after losing count. The ceiling fan was chilling his damp back quite pleasantly and he didn’t even mind that they’d have to magic the sheets clean before Draco agreed to sleep in them.

“About eight million times,” Draco said, exasperated and besotted.

Just the way Harry liked him. “Not enough.” He leaned up for a kiss. “Absolutely not enough.”

“Are you done for the night?”

Harry took a second to gauge his mental, emotional, and of course physical exhaustion. “Dunno. What d’you think?”

“I think I anticipated you wanting to have a romantic sex marathon and when I’m told to sleep ‘til ten I don’t argue.”

“I am not that predictable,” Harry said.

“No,” Draco replied, all sarcasm. “Of course you’re not.”

Harry leaned up to gaze at him accusatorily. “I’m not, really. Remember when I took you to Brighton?”

“Which time?”

“Fine, how about when I showed up at that stupid party because I knew you didn’t want to go alone even though you _insisted_ you wouldn’t mind?”

“Okay, even for you that was impressive, but-”

“Or the pants?”

Draco was tilting his head down to look him full in the eye, eyebrows raised. “What about them?”

“Oh, I don’t know, the fact I agreed to go without them the night of one of the most important wizarding events of the year.”

“It wasn’t that important.”

“It was a _centennial celebration_ , you absolute- ugh!” Harry kissed him by way of conveying the emotion.

“You know,” Draco said, “Kissing isn’t generally how people express the sentiment ‘I can’t stand you-’”

Harry made another attempt to prove him wrong.

Thanksgiving dawned bright and early- or Harry assumed it did, since he and Draco were dead asleep still and didn’t awake until three hours after the sun came up.

“It’s eight past and no one’s screamed,” Draco said, staring at the clock.

Harry managed to take a look without dislodging himself from starfishing on top of Draco. “Not yet, anyway.” And then, “Ah, there it is.”

It was impossible to tell exactly who was screaming, or what they were saying, if anything at all, but, right on cue, a loud, excited shout reverberated through the house. “Glad we don’t have high ceilings,” Draco said, grimacing. “You can hear everything in that freaking living room through the whole house.”

“I know. Be horrible. Remember when the Canons almost won that match?”

“How could I forget?”

There was a little more screaming, but it seemed that whoever was that pumped to be in the house had been quieted down some, presumably by Penny or another parent. Harry sighed. “We should get up, now, yeah?”

As if to underscore his point, the sound of footsteps a hair louder than Ella’s started pounding up the stairs, then went all the way down the hall (past their door) and back.

“You run on my stairs you’ll be eating dinner in the yard!” Penny yelled.

The two of them flopped out of bed, showered, and dressed. Harry cast a few hasty spells on the bed before putting his and Draco’s wands in the bedside drawer and locking it. “What should I do with this?” He held up the key. Have to thank Penny for that bit of courtesy later.

Draco shrugged. “She said if a door’s closed it stays closed. After all that yelling I can’t say I believe her, but- jean jacket?”

“Jean jacket,” Harry agreed, and dropped the key into the chest pocket. He buttoned the flap shut for good measure. “There. Ready to face the cavalry?”

“Suppose they were galloping,” Draco said, and opened the door.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING this chapter has a whole ton of emotions. Harry talks to Petunia.
> 
> Last three next weekend. Thanks for reading!

As the designated head chef, Dudley was the indispensable party host that day, meaning Penny would have to drive into the city to pick up the in-laws.

“This is ridiculous,” Draco said. “You should not have to leave in the middle of this chaos-” all their eyes followed the nearest running toddler, who was a whole three feet away from their little conference- “just because someone can’t be bothered to sit in the car with a taxi driver for an hour.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, “I’ll get them.”

Dudley looked up from the stove to join in the staring.

“I’m serious. It’ll be fine. What’s the worst that can-”

“No,” Dudley said firmly. “Try again.”

“I could get them,” Draco said. 

“You hardly know them,” Penny said.

“Exactly, that makes me the perfect one to go. What could they possibly say to me?”

Penny looked like she was actually considering it.

Harry remembered his earlier prediction and shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“I’m unarmed,” Draco said.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yes, it does. I’ll be miles away, so any hope of me doing anything is-”

“Why don’t we both go?” Harry asked.

Draco sucked in a breath, then shut his mouth.

“That actually may be a good idea,” Penny said.

“If you don’t decide in the next two minutes, I’ll go myself and leave you all to fend for yourselves,” Dudley said.

“Right, okay, looks like we’re going, then,” Draco said.

“Take this,” Penny shoved the phone into his hand. “And my car, no offense, but it’s much nicer than that little thing y’all are renting, let me just go get the keys...”

Twenty minutes later, they were munching on some of the casualties of Dudley’s cooking spree (evidently imperfectly shaped biscuits- which were basically southern scones- could not make an appearance on the table) and sucking down some of Penny’s good coffee, which she’d so graciously put into travel mugs for them.

“These are good,” Draco said, trying to drive and not spray biscuit crumbs everywhere.

His driving was better for everyone. Why Penny’d given him the keys instead of Harry, probably. “Why do we all have different names for everything? It’s so bloody confusing.”

“Dunno. Kind of nice, though. The versatility of language, or something.”

“That’s my line.”

Draco shrugged.

They made reasonable time despite the holiday traffic, and, as instructed, when they pulled up in front of the hotel they called the room. “We’re here,” Harry said.

“We who?” she said through definitely gritted teeth.

“Draco and I. Offered to come. Dudley’s cooking and Penny’s trying to keep the house from being destroyed.”

“Absolute animals- be down in a moment.”

“How’d she sound?” Draco asked as Harry pocketed the phone.

“Dunno. Not especially surprised?”

A few minutes later Penny’s car was being boarded by Harry’s least favorite Dursleys.

“Morning,” Petunia said stiffly.

“Morning,” Draco replied. “Ready to go?”

“Unfortunately. We were told there’d be plenty of cousins coming?”

“Some are already there,” Harry offered.

Petunia scoffed and looked out the window.

About five minutes into the drive, Vernon said, “Isn’t there a radio in this blasted thing?”

“Yes, but to avoid the inevitable country music,” Draco said, and hit the play button.

Harry’s mouth fell open as ‘Tiny Dancer’ started. “When did you-?”

Draco just smirked at him.

Vernon snorted. “Some rockstar. Thirty years on drugs, was it, Petunia?”

“Something like that.” A few more bars. “But he _can_ sing.”

Harry blinked.

Maybe this day wouldn’t be totally horrible after all.

They made decent time back, and they entered through the garage door to find the party had doubled in size.

“When’s dinner?” Vernon asked, slapping Dudley on the back.

“Soon as I can get it out,” Dudley said. “Drive alright?”

“Fine. Never get used to the blasted six-lane roads, though.”

“Granpa and GRAN!” Ella said over the din.

Petunia swept Ella up into a hug. Even Harry had to admit it was adorable. “Yes, love?”

“I have to show you something.”

Draco smirked.

“I can make my Barbies fly!” The second she was released, Ella sprinted to the family room, retrieved a Barbie, and returned only to chuck it as hard as she could at the garage door. It rebounded with a loud smack and landed on the floor.

“We’ll make a baseball player of you yet, eh?” Vernon said, picking up the doll and handing it to her.

“You alright?” Draco’s voice interrupted Harry’s head spinning.

“Yeah. Gonna… back in a bit. Work on your cake, yeah?” He gave Draco a pat on the arm and beelined for the stairs.

Alone in the bathroom, insulated from the party noise by two sets of walls and some nice cool half-darkness, Harry sat on the toilet lid, head in his hands.

Forgot they were people. That was it. For all their imperfections they were still people, hearing all the stories about Petunia should’ve warned him, Harry should have got it if anyone did, he was fucking shagging Draco Malfoy-

Well. Not just shagging. Basically engaged.

Harry scrubbed his hands through his hair and sat up. He took the slow deep breaths he wouldn’t admit to Hermione were helpful until he’d done them on his own enough times for it to actually work. In through the nose, just a kitchen full of human beings, out through the mouth, you made it all the way here from the hotel and Draco didn’t even pull over to punch him in the face. Harry smiled a little at that.

Right. Back to the party.

In Penny’s house, a party was a morphing, living thing, with ebbs and flows and a shape that was different every second. Harry was used to this; it was a family party, a Weasley party, almost, and even when some of the coworkers and Penny’s parents showed up the flow went on. Penny, like Mrs. Weasley, drifted from huddle to huddle, keeping an eye on everything but never staying in one place too long.

“She’s like a butterfly,” Harry said.

“Good hostess,” Draco said.

“Yes, but… I’ve rarely known someone to do it so well, especially when…” Harry couldn’t come up with a word fit for polite company.

“Animosity?” Draco suggested.

“Animosity,” Harry agreed, though he was beginning to think that was too strong a word. He wouldn’t go so far as to call it warmth, either, of course; maybe begrudging acceptance? “Am I awake?”

“Need me to pinch you?”

“I’m alright, thanks. Gonna go check on dinner.” The smell led Harry straight to Dudley, who immediately waved him over. “What?”

“Get the top one from the oven and start plating, would you?”

Harry followed his marching orders. “How many people are you trying to feed?”

“Dunno. Penny said fifty was too much? I think I’m cooking for fifty.”

“You should have a cover charge.” Harry slid the last of the green beans onto the spatula and then into the bowl. “Now wash this?”

“As long as the water’s hot. Don’t want to-”

“Warp it, I know.” Harry caught up on the dishes and was about to start asking where things went (that he didn’t know, at least; had half the cabinets down by then) when Penny came in.

“Adult food ready?”

“About half,” Dudley said.

“I’ll start taking it in. Leah?”

Penny’s sister skidded into view.

“Grab a dish.”

Twenty minutes later, they were all sitting down to eat. Or most of them were; they’d only got the main table to seat twenty-five, with a folding one shoved at the end for everybody else, and half the adults were making the rounds to set up plates for their kids, who had the kitchen table for their own.

Harry had loads of pleasant conversations and even more good food, and by the end of it he was feeling quite fortified. When the table finally began to disperse, Harry went over to Petunia, who was milling in a corner with a drink in her hand. “Can I talk to you?”

Petunia looked resigned. She nodded, set her glass down, and followed Harry into the office. The noise of the party was still audible, but they were down the hall and Harry had no trouble hearing Petunia’s quiet question. “What is it you want to know?”

Harry gauged her expression. It was calm, apprehensive, a bit of steel in it. Guarded. “Can you tell me about my mother?”

He didn’t know what got her to do it. If she’d been expecting it, or if something in the way he spoke or sat or looked at her made up her mind. But the moment he’d got the question out, the process started in her eyes, thinking, thinking, decision, and the floodgates opened. “Your mother was unlike anyone I’ve ever known, except maybe you.”

She talked and talked. Told Harry what it was like when they were little, Petunia pulling Lilly’s hair and Lilly instantly forgiving her, the two of them picking flowers for their mother at the edge of the trees by their house and Petunia going to deliver them while Lilly went off with Snape. At first Petunia thought she felt sorry for him, but then she realized that something off about Lilly was off about the boy, too, some strange thing inside them she didn’t have that made her jealous. Petunia still played with her, because they had no one else in the long, slow, rainy summers. Then Lilly went off to school, and Petunia stayed on at the local with a promise they’d send her to the best secondary they could when she was old enough, but she knew it wouldn’t mean anything because no matter what she did she’d never be able to compete with magic.

“It wasn’t Lilly’s fault. She tried, you know, to get closer to me, but every time she did we’d be sitting in her room talking and she’d be drawing me in- you know how it does that, of course you know- and then one of our parents would call her down for something, to help with something small- the statute wasn’t the same, you know, in those days. For as much as people still hated us they knew they needed us, knew they needed people like Lilly, so if everyone knew and you were in your house they didn’t mind underage magic so much. It wasn’t ‘til _he_ came through and- well- fucked it all up. You know. Of course you know. Better than anyone.” Petunia stared at him for a second.

Harry waited, not having anything _to_ say. Hadn’t been his dad, not really. By ‘he’ Petunia meant Voldemort. The war. And Lilly would’ve probably got involved, anyway. She cared too much. Petunia understood that.

“I lost my sister, and that hurt, because I always knew I could have her back before. I knew when the day finally came that I showed up in Godric’s Hollow for tea and to meet my nephew, maybe bring Dudley along, even- Vernon wouldn’t have minded, you see, I never would’ve told him. Didn’t help him to know. It was just with you in the house- because you didn’t have her. I know you didn’t, you didn’t have a chance to know what you were missing, and I thought, that’s fine, you’re better off, and Dumbledore made it very clear you had no one else and never could, but I just-”

Harry interrupted for the first time. “Why’d you take me? If Vernon didn’t want to, if he hated everything I was, why?”

Petunia’s expression turned sad, or sadder than it’d been. “I’d done nothing for her for eleven years. Longer, even. And then she was just dead. Couldn’t say _no_. I held it against you, you know that, but I couldn’t say no. It was the only thing I could do for her. May look it, but even I’m not heartless. I’m sure you know all this. Heaven knows you’re smart enough.”

Harry cracked a sad smile. “Might’ve helped. Hearing that when I was younger. Might not have been such an arse back to you all the time, if I understood some of what was going on.”

“You got that from her, you know. Your curiosity. And your mouth.”

“Thought it was my dad?”

Petunia laughed. “Oh, I’m sure he helped, he could be quite choosy with words, but no. She was always asking questions, firing back the damndest things. Got a feeling he’d have preferred coming to blows first and negotiating afterward, but your mother… she knew how to fight with words. She was always ready to, always sharp. I remember once we went for candy and the clerk overcharged her…”

They lost track of time, talking like that. Petunia telling stories and Hary soaking them up like sunlight. Finally, after an hour or two, Petunia went quiet. Harry’d run out of questions. Nothing more to say. Always came down to that moment, here’s everything, but it’s over, so there’s nothing more to say.

Harry looked at her, unable to stop the tears from coming. “Thank you.”

“I had her for twenty years. You only had her for one.”

“Thank you,” Harry repeated.

“I’m glad. That you’re happy. I resented you for it, for the things others did to land us with you, but I… I’m glad.” Petunia cleared her throat, beating back any trace of emotion, and stood. “Time I was getting back.”

“Right,” Harry said. He knew he’d have only moments alone before someone came in after her- most likely Draco, but maybe Dudley, maybe Penny. “See you in there.”

She went. Harry took his moment.

Mum. My mum. She still cared about my mum and I have my life to show for it. That’s something, that’s something, that’s something.

It was Draco who came in.

He shut the door quietly, went to sit in the place Petunia had left. Finally, “Expect if I ask you’ll hit me.”

Harry looked up, offered a teary smile. “Now why would I do that?”

Draco breathed a laugh. “Come on. You would. Especially now. Answer’s too obvious, isn’t it?”

“No.” Harry shook his head. “No. I think… I think I’m alright, really.”

“Really?”

Harry nodded. “Got closure. Or made peace.”

“I like that. ‘Made peace.’ Offers some hope for the rest of us.”

Harry sniffed, tried to collect himself. “Always was hope for the rest of you.”

“No. Needed someone to set an example.”

Harry did hit him then, if only a smack on the arm.

“Told you,” Draco said, grinning.

“And you didn’t even ask if I was alright. How unfair of me.” Harry stood. “Come on. Haven’t had dessert yet.”

Draco rose, reached for him.

Harry fell into his arms. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Say that again and _I’ll_ hit _you_.”

Harry laughed into Draco’s neck, arms tightening. “I got to know my mother.”

“I heard she was wonderful.”

“She was,” Harry said, sniffing and pulling back a bit. “She really, really was.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? We could go upstairs for a while. You were in here a long time...”

“I’m fine,” Harry insisted. Then, “Maybe just a few minutes?”

Draco smiled softly and pulled him down into a chair.

“We do not fit,” Harry said.

“Nonsense.” Draco pulled him farther into his lap.

“This cannot be comfortable for you.”

“Wrong.” Draco buried his face in Harry’s jacket and inhaled. “You smell good.”

“Freak.”

“Absolutely. Need to say anything?”

“No. Just maybe sit here.”

They stayed like that until Harry’s breathing was even again and it really felt like they should be getting back.

Draco set Harry on his feet and stood, threw an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Should I tell them which iconic gay person inspired the cake?”

“I think two of them will know, based on your music choices.” Harry reached around Draco’s back, holding him near, feeling a thrill at the idea they’d walk out in a few seconds like this, daring anyone to say anything. “Might be better to leave the rest wondering, I think.”

The rest of the holiday was absolutely fine, and Harry even shook Vernon’s hand once, which was very weird but definitely counted as a triumph of some sort.

At around seven, when everyone had had leftovers and the children were finally screaming a bit less often, Petunia came up to Harry (who’d been clinging to Draco the whole day) and said, “We should have tea, next time you’re in town. Heard you’re leaving tomorrow?”

“For a few days, yes,” Harry said. “You’re more than welcome to the room, if you like.”

“You know, I just might take it? Hotel’s abysmally expensive.”

Harry looked between Petunia and Draco. “Hang on-”

But Penny was approaching. “Ready to go, Petunia? I need the break.”

“As long as Ella comes along.” Petunia reached out a hand apparently into space, and Ella materialized to grab it. “Hardly got to talk all day, have we?”

“You can sit in the backseat with me!”

“Good luck with the children,” Petunia said to Harry and Draco, and then she and Ella were skipping to the door.

“Hang on-” Harry said again.

“It’s fine. I’m a child-whisperer, remember?” Draco said. “And Dudley’s set the relatives on the dishes so he can help.”

Harry took a calming breath. “How many are staying the night?”

“Five. Parents promised not to leave until Penny and Ella got back, though I think, if we find the right movie-”

Harry exhaled his entire lung capacity. “And you were saying I’d want four.”

“I stand by that. I know if it was our spawn you’d want twelve.”

The child wrangling went more smoothly than Harry had thought, though he was still grateful when Penny finally returned to announce in her authoritative mom voice, “Lights are goin’ out at nine thirty and if any of y’all has a problem with that-”

“You can sleep in the yard,” Ella finished for her.

Penny and Dudley promised they’d leave their door open in case anything came up and that, despite the abundance of overactive imagination in the house, Harry and Draco could cast something to keep their room the tranquil, relaxing environment it was intended to be.

“It’s probably fine. Ella’s room is only a few closets away,” Draco said with a wave of his hand. “Haven’t had an issue so far.”

One of the children then let out the loudest sneeze Harry had ever heard.

“Alright. Think we’ll take you up on it. This one needs sleep,” Draco squeezed Harry’s hand.

“M’fine.”

“You look half dead,” Penny corrected. “I’m makin’ you a cup of chamomile tea and you are going to sleep like a baby or so help me I’ll undo the room swap just to make sure you’re a decent patient.”

“Yes ma’am,” Harry said. Because as much as he liked not having people worry about him Penny’s concern was a small price to pay for the luxury of an indefinite number of hours in a silent hotel room with no one but Draco to bother him.

That had been a miracle on Draco’s part. Apparently while on the phone in the locked car he’d been negotiating to steal Petunia and Vernon’s room reservation and trade them for the guest room. Nobody had let Harry say anything about it, but he had a feeling the telling off he’d predicted Draco was going to give Petunia had something to do with it.

Draco managed to get Harry tucked into bed before the tea was even sent up, which Penny ended up having Ella do. Good tactic because it tripled the chances Harry was actually going to listen to her and drink the thing. “Thank you, Ella.”

“Mom says you need to rest or you’ll get sick, and she also said she wants to have all of us go to Sunday brunch this weekend, too, so you can’t get sick because then you won’t get to see how weird Gran and Nana are together.”

Rather than asking, Harry determined to be checked out of the hotel by Sunday brunch time and promised Ella he’d be there, if only to see what she meant calling Petunia and Eloise ‘weird.’

Draco sat up in bed next to Harry while he sipped his tea, reading a passage from Jane Eyre that should not have been relaxing but somehow was anyway. “Where’d you even get that?”

“Penny lent it to me. Good taste in literature.” Draco nudged his thigh. “Put that tea down when you’re not drinking or you’re going to spill.” He then went back into soothing voice mode to continue reading.

“‘There are great moors behind and on each hand of me; there are waves of mountains far beyond that deep valley at my feet. The population here must be thin, and I see no passengers on these roads: they stretch out east, west, north, and south- white, broad, lonely; they are all cut in the moor, and the heather grows deep and wild to their very verge. Yet a chance traveller might pass by; and I wish no eye to see me now: strangers would wonder what I am doing, lingering here at the sign-post, evidently objectless and lost. I might be questioned: I could give no answer but what would sound incredible and excite suspicion. Not a tie holds me to human society at this moment- not a charm or hope calls me where my fellow-creatures are- none that saw me would have a kind thought or a good wish for me. I have no relative but the universal mother, Nature: I will seek her breast and ask repose.’”

“She was alone,” Harry said, voice slow with sleep. “Completely alone. Even though she always had been, more alone than any other time in her life...”

“You’re not alone. You never were.”

“No. But it would’ve been nice. To’ve known it.” Harry yawned. “Keep reading?”

“‘I struck straight into the heath; I held on to a hollow I saw deeply furrowing in the brown moorside; I waded knee-deep in its dark growth; I turned with its turnings, and finding a moss-blackened granite crag at a hidden angle, I sat down under it...’”

Harry awoke to the sound of gentle snoring and a pale light filtering through the curtains. It was still early, half past seven, and the house was quiet, all asleep. Draco was sprawled on his stomach, one arm thrown across Harry’s chest and the other reaching up towards the book that rested on the pillow above his head. The tip of his finger was just holding his place; Harry reached over, carefully, and caught the page, lifting the book to see how far Draco’d got.

Jane was well settled with the Rivers family, and St. John’s attempts to convince her to go to India with him had just started. Harry slipped on his glasses and read for a while, enjoying the steady air of the room and the soft noises of morning mixing with light sound of turning pages.

Draco made a sleepy sound and tightened his arm around Harry, burrowing deeper into his pillow. “How far did you get?”

“Almost at the end.”

“Good. Like to think between us we can get through a book.”

Harry laughed and set the volume down on the bedside table. “Finally awake?”

“Why’re you? I thought you were sleeping off emotional exhaustion.”

“I was. Just like Jane. Got a good rest and dreamt of the moors.”

Draco opened his eyes. “Are you ready to have an incredibly lovely weekend?”

“We’ve got to help them feed the horde first.”

“Oh, don’t remind me,” Draco said, and turned his face into the pillow. He then said something else, but Harry’d be hard-pressed to make it out given the layers of cotton and down muffling Draco’s face.

“Sorry?”

Draco groaned and turned back. “I said, this had better be a good vacation, because you’re finally relaxed enough to enjoy it and you know it’s going to take that and then some to convince _me_ to relax.”

“Whatever you said, it was not that long.”

“Okay, fine, but you know I mean it.”

“’Course you mean it.” Harry brought a hand down to comb through Draco’s hair. “Most serious person this side of the planet.”

“That’s me.” Draco wriggled up to kiss him, then sighed. “We should be getting up.”

“You’re right, we should,” Harry said, dragging Draco upright with him.

“No, come on, that isn’t fair, headrush!” But Draco stayed vertical anyway.

They dressed and went downstairs to find Dudley halfway through cooking a massive batch of pancakes. “Hoping the smell keeps them well-behaved until they’ve eaten.”

“Good strategy,” Draco said, stealing a pancake, folding it in half, and jamming the entire thing in his mouth. “S’n’t Pen ‘nt work t’day?”

“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were raised by wolves,” Harry said.

“She’s got her A team on the first shift, so she got some sleep, thankfully, but they’ll be needing all the help they can get now. Shopping’s bad today, and they’re in a high traffic area.”

Draco swallowed. “Oh, right. Black Friday, isn’t it? Thought she said something about shopping?”

Dudley shrugged. “I guess. Bit different for us never having some pre-Christmas holiday, but apparently everyone starts shopping today. Penny decided she’d rather work. Only really a big deal if you need something you’d have to wait in line for.”

“Like an Xbox,” Harry said.

“What’s an Xbox?” Draco asked.

“Stop playing ignorant, you’ve played Ron’s about fifteen times since he got it.”

“Think it’s worth the money?” Dudley asked.

Harry shrugged. “Dunno. Can’t see the games getting any worse, though, can you?”

Dudley snorted. “No. Quite amazing to begin with.”

That was the time when the children started becoming properly awake, led by Ella, who strode into the kitchen talking about how starving she was and insisting her dad make more batter because she was going to eat the entire plate of pancakes herself.

Ella did not eat the entire plate of pancakes herself, though she did get through an impressive number of them. After breakfast, Draco and Harry helped Dudley clean up, while the children settled in for the second installment of the film they’d seen the night before.

Dudley glanced at the clock. Ten. “You should probably leave. Or you can, I mean, I’m not trying to kick you out, I just-”

“Will their parents be back soon?” Draco asked.

“Penny said if they weren’t out of the house by noon I had permission to put them on the lawn, though I don’t think their parents would be happy to find them there.”

“You’re sure you can handle all of them by yourself?” Harry asked.

Dudley shrugged. “I’ve had Ella alone plenty. What’s a few more, and those not quite as boisterous?”

“Who said you’re a math man?” Harry said. “ _Boisterous_.”

“Word of the day calendar, mate.”

Harry and Draco went to throw a couple days’ worth of clothes into one of their suitcases, then headed down. “You’re sure you’re alright?” Harry asked.

“Please leave,” Dudley said.

“Right. See you Sunday.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vacation within a vacation

“This is not right.” Harry was standing outside a towering hotel with Draco, the valet already taking their crappy rental to the garage. “There’s no way.”

“They gave us their room.”

“That’s not...” Harry turned to Draco, frowned, then looked up at the hotel again. “They stayed here?” Although Harry had no difficulty imagining the Dursleys sucking up every minute they could get in a posh place like this, he wouldn’t put it past them to brand the hotel too snobbish and go for something undoubtedly less expensive.

Draco shrugged. “Not my problem. We get the room now and we’re staying the same place royalty did a few years ago-”

“You mean to tell me two people half retired to Florida had a week in the same place as royalty and they gave two of those nights to us?” Harry was becoming more doubtful by the second.

“Look, Harry, we could stand here and debate how exactly I intimidated people into doing something nice for you which they owe you a million fold, or we could go upstairs and see exactly what kind of ‘fuck you’ thanks we can give them with the available-”

Harry grabbed Draco’s hand and yanked him into the lobby.

Ten minutes later Harry was snogging him senseless against the back of the hotel door. “I love you, you know that?” Harry said as Draco trailed kisses down his neck. “So much.”

Draco started undoing Harry’s shirt buttons, running his hands down his abdomen. “Need more skin.” He then pushed Harry forward until the back of his knees hit the bed.

“Eager, are we?” Harry smirked, which, in situations like these, Draco absolutely hated.

“Fine, then,” Draco said, and before either of them could get anywhere near naked, he had Harry’s jeans open and was beginning a course of enthusiastic fellative torture.

They didn’t manage to get completely naked until two hours later, which Harry pointed out as soon as he got his breath back.

“And?” Draco said, every bit the pureblood snob in that moment.

“You know you sounded _ridiculous_ just now?” Harry laughed “Absolute prat in every way. I can’t believe I just let your pretentious arse fuck me and _enjoyed it_ -”

“Please,” Draco said with a scoff. “My pretention’s half my charm.”

“What’s the other half?”

Draco’s hand came out of nowhere, landing with a slap on his chest.

“Ow. My tit.”

“Did you just say ‘ow, my tit’?”

“Yes, I believe that’s where your hand is now, and if the loud noise made on contact wasn’t clear-”

“Why do I find this hot?” Draco asked, climbing on top of him.

“Dunno. Suppose you’re a pretty strange bloke, can’t imagine it’s a surprise.”

When they were well and truly exhausted, Draco said, “Feed me,” very loudly to the ceiling.

“Were you talking to me?”

“Merlin’s fucking arse, must I do everything myself?” Draco dragged himself off of Harry/the bed and went to get the room service menu.

“Déjà vu,” Harry said.

“Of course it is, you’ve seen my arse a thousand t- yes, hello, I’d like to order room service.”

The hotel was nice enough to provide complimentary robes, which they donned to avoid traumatizing whoever was sent up with their food.

After devouring lunch, Harry took a turn doing all the work, and then they decided to take a bath and get very drunk and talk about times their past selves absolutely did not wank over each other about.

“Remember when I crashed Slughorn’s party?”

“Yes.” Harry was leaning at a strange angle, balance not at all stabilized by the pleasant fuzziness in his head. His torso was in the water and his legs hung over the side of the tub. Draco was sunk in up to his neck somewhere to Harry’s right. “It was horrible.”

“Alright, it was horrible, but d’you remember what you were wearing?”

“Dress robes?”

“Didn’t wank over those at all,” Draco said, and then started blowing bubbles.

“Remember the Ministry Christmas gala?”

“You mean the first one? When my parents were still attempting to restore their name themselves, instead of just letting me do it?”

“That’s the one.” Harry took a sip of wine. “Stunning. Impeccable. Didn’t wank over that outfit for months.”

“Months?” Draco said. “Months, back then, you found me worthy of pulling one off to, and you didn’t _say anything_?”

“You still acted like you hated me.”

“I did not!”

“You did. You were all…” Harry waved his hand in the air, trying to find the word. “Aloof.”

“Aloofness and hatred are two very different emotions.”

“Yes, but I’m stupid about these things. The clueless bi, if you will.”

Draco blew more bubbles in response.

“You’re making a face. What?”

Draco’s mouth emerged to reveal the rest of a very neutral-looking expression that Harry knew meant he wanted to say something but thought he shouldn’t. “Some Gryffindor.”

“Oh, some Gryffindor?” Harry set his wine on the floor and sloshed back into the tub, drenching Draco’s head in the process. “Some Gryffindor, you’re a Slytherin, what about that, why didn’t you cunningly detect my lust?”

“Detect this,” Draco said, and used his own empty wine glass to scoop up some bath water and soak Harry’s hair and his glasses.

“Well now I can’t see!”

“You should get contacts, then we wouldn’t always be breaking things in bed!”

“I told you, I’m allergic-”

“To _one type_ of contacts, there’s probably hundreds-”

They splashed around a bit until Harry inhaled half the bath, at which point they decided drunken shenanigans were best conducted somewhere they couldn’t drown.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Draco asked.

“M’fine. Just a little wet in places I shouldn’t be.”

“Your lungs aren’t supposed to be dry.”

“Yes, Doctor Anatomy, but I don’t think a gallon of bathwater is what they’re supposed to be wet with.”

Not even Draco could argue that one.

Harry coughed. “Alright. One more?”

“One more?”

“’Til we pass out for a while and sleep this off, I mean, and then we can, you know-” he waved his hand around like he had before, not certain what he meant, but feeling Draco’d get it anyway.

Draco pulled the plug and pulled himself up by the towel bars. “Let me get out first, last thing we want is you with a head injury.”

Harry watched him step carefully onto the (soaked) towel on the floor and then grab another one to throw down on top of it. “You sure you want to help me? Make for a good story, concussion because I was drunk in the bath-”

“Come on, you,” Draco said, and pulled him up, too.

They then had sex again, and fell very deeply asleep.

Some hours later they were both awake, and it was dark.

“I’m not tired at all,” Harry said. “Suppose we’d be up.” It was three in the morning. They’d been napping a bit before that last one, what with all the sex. Nowhere near as bad as jet lag, if Harry had to guess, but it might mess them up a bit tomorrow.

“Are you hungry? Room service’s twenty-four hours.” Draco was sprawled on his stomach, technically his sleeping pose, although neither of them had been asleep for a decent fifteen minutes of lazy snogging.

“No. Just awake.” At Draco’s expression he added, “No, not that awake.”

Draco breathed a sigh of relief. “You _do_ want to leave the room tomorrow.”

“I do,” Harry said. “For a while, at least. Shall we see where to go?” He rolled out of bed and got one of the brochures off the desk, the one that talked about all the lovely upscale things there were to do in Dallas. “This’s rich people stuff, though.” He sat on the end of the bed.

“Perish the thought,” Draco said, and clambered up to peer over Harry’s shoulder. “What about that, that doesn’t sound rich. Arts district’s always code for students and hippies.”

Harry twisted around. “Did you just say ‘hippies’?”

Draco gave him a challenging expression.

“We’ve got past the Y2K bug, we are literally sitting in the dawn of a new century, and you’re using the word ‘hippies’?”

“I’m not going to unsay it if you keep asking. It’s already happened. And I stand by it, you know.”

Harry glanced back down at the brochure. “We could just go around.”

“I like that idea,” Draco said. “Come back to bed?”

The ‘for more snogging’ bit need not be clarified.

The next day was Saturday, and Harry knew that things were always in full swing on a city on Saturday, even if that city was a tiny American one and not the international metropolis he’d been lucky enough to live in the past few years.

Harry had always liked to wander around London. It was one of his favorite things to do, really, short of giving massive amounts of money anonymously and showing up at Hermione and Ron’s a half hour before they usually had dinner with their favorites from whatever takeaway he was feeling that night.

Wandering around Dallas was not like wandering around London.

It seemed big, for starters. Harry knew London was big, he’d walked all over, seen maps. But there was _stuff_ everywhere. Places to shop or eat or dodge businesspeople at the very least.

In Dallas, it was mostly roads. A massive city with more roads than places for people to be, at least directly off said roads.

They ended up getting a taxi to the arts area first, because Harry wanted to get Hermione something ridiculous and have her explain an as-yet unknown meaning to him. He tended to do this with tools that muggles used one way and wizards another. They found a shop that sold all different kinds of incense and talismans and crystals and books. He went with a bunch of crystals and a book that claimed to explain them, knowing Hermione would enjoy nothing more than proving it all wrong.

Most of the others he’d already got gifts for, so they stopped for lunch, and then pie.

“American, isn’t it? Pie?”

“Not really. Well, apple,” Harry said, lifting a forkful of the precious delight in question towards his face. “Best thing here, if I’m being honest.”

Draco, who was finishing off his own bite of apple and moving onto the other one, some chocolate cream thing with meringue on top, nodded his agreement. “They’ve got, like, Ella, top of the list, right? Then apple pie, good range of weather... would you put this flavor of rampant consumerism under a positive or a negative?”

Harry shrugged. “Not much different from ours. We’re just at the next stage, or a little to the left, or something.”

Draco nodded. “So, Ella, apple pie with crumbles- because, as you know, that’s a very important distinction.”

Harry nodded vigorously, not wanting to disrupt the sanctity of his mouthful of said crumbles. The woman at the counter had explained that the most important decision they’d ever make would be deciding between pie top and crumble top, what with this being their first trip to America and everything, and she had strongly advised the crumble top. Was fantastic advice.

Draco twirled his fork around. “Then, erm, what was it, the weather? And, like… petrol being so cheap, even if that’s for a whole lot of terrible reasons, too. So really just Ella, if I’m being honest.”

Harry snorted in agreement. “May not want to tell her that. Not right away, anyway.”

“No.”

They ended up needing way more taxis than Harry would have liked, but he figured in the end it’d be worth it. Draco kept reminding Harry that they couldn’t do everything. He seemed to be enjoying himself anyway, though. They went to every park and museum and lovely little shopping street they chanced upon, and when Harry decided he was too tired to stay out but not too tired to keep enjoying the room, they headed back to the hotel and did another few rounds.

“Strange. Something being over,” Harry said. They were in the shower; it was his turn under the water. Wanted to get clean so they could go down and have a proper dinner, even if they were planning on a very naked and thus necessarily in-room dessert.

“Nice, though, isn’t it?”

Harry snorted. He was well aware by the tone that Draco was referencing the big war is over feeling they had both undoubtedly been drowning in the day after said war. “This isn’t quite as extreme.”

“Oh?” Draco said, nudging under the water.

“Thanks for that, I’ve still got shampoo in,” Harry said, not really minding. “And yes. No. It’s very different. I’ve never had closure with family. Is this what it feels like?”

“Like it’s not really closure at all and that’s fine because family’s the only thing consistent ‘til you die?”

“Sunny. But yeah, suppose that’s it.”

Draco shrugged. “On to the next thing, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Harry said, gripping Draco by the shoulders and reversing their positions. “Whatever that is.”

“Few more days in America and opening a café right before Christmas?”

“Don’t forget the books,” Harry said, smiling brightly.

“And the tea.”

“And the coffee, and the tea,” Harry agreed.

The rest of the night was good, too.

Draco and Harry got back to the house just as Petunia and Vernon were leaving for the airport.

They’d decided to take a cab, for whatever reason, and they were just coming down the stairs when Penny let Draco and Harry in. “Oh, perfect timin’! The room’s free.”

“Ha ha. How was your weekend?” Draco leaned to kiss Penny on the cheek.

“We had a great time! Christmas shopping in a couple downtown squares and all the Ella time we could give these two.”

“We’ll be back at Christmas,” Petunia said, leaning to hug Penny.

“If my son didn’t live so d- so far,” Vernon said, slapping Dudley on the shoulder.

“I like it here, Dad. I’ve got a job. And a house.”

Vernon snorted. “Can get a house in Florida, but what do I know?”

“Why don’t y’all move here, then?”

“Let’s not, Penny, dear,” Petunia said. “Save some for Christmas?”

“Alright, alright.”

Ella had appeared in the hallway at the sound of people coming and going. “Do you have to leave, Gran?”

“I have to go home, popkin. Christmas isn’t so far.” Petunia crouched down to give Ella a proper hug.

In a show of affection too alien for Harry to believe, Vernon then lifted Ella into a hug. She giggled as she was set down.

Harry and Draco both shook hands with Vernon as a show of good faith, but when Harry turned to Petunia to do the same she hugged him. “Don’t get used to it,” she muttered in his ear; Harry laughed. “Write, won’t you?”

“Sure,” Harry said. “Yeah, absolutely. You’ll be the first one to get a Christmas card.”

“As long as it doesn’t explode.”

All of them stared at Vernon.

“What? I can make a joke, who d’you think taught this one?” He nodded to Dudley.

“His mum,” both Harry and Penny said at once.

Everyone laughed at that, even Ella, and the Dursley parents boarded the taxi smiling.

Harry felt a non-Draco hand on his elbow and started at Dudley’s voice, “Alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, glancing at him, smiling quickly, “Yeah, I’m alright. I’m good. You?”

“Likewise.”

They watched the taxi ‘til it turned the corner.

Then things were back to normal again- or, people who weren’t Harry and Draco were back to work and school- on Monday. Penny gave them the GPS and told them to do whatever they liked while they still had the chance. They’d got flights for Thursday. Everyone, even Ella, was taking that day off to have breakfast with them and drive them to the airport, and on Tuesday night they were invited to a family dinner at Penny’s parents that she promised would be the last time her mamma even attempted to scare them away, or maybe they would up and move to Florida.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta be honest this one just sort of happened...

Monday they went around town, and Tuesday Harry helped Draco bake a cake and a type of bar he was sure would cement his position once and for all as the gay cousin-in-law they loved anyway.

“Approval’s stupid,” Harry said, dusting flour off his hands.

“Alright, yes, we all know that,” Draco said, turning on the oven light and dropping into a crouch to check the bars, “but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel nice.”

“Which bit, the opinions or the rubbing it in their faces?”

“Second one, obviously.” Draco sprung up to set the oven timer and came to the sink to help Harry clean up. “We’re getting Ella from school, tomorrow, right?”

“Right. And then we’re going to make pizza and she won’t have to do any homework even though all of us tried to convince her it’d be better to do it sooner rather than wait ‘til after we left.” Harry set a clean bowl in the drying rack and started on a whisk.

“Are we going to make our kids do their homework right when they get home?”

“Yes,” Harry said firmly. “Though I still think it’s a bit insane wizards top the generation gap off at twenty-five.”

“No one said we had to go and steal a baby from the fire brigade the moment we get back.” Draco crossed the kitchen to put something away, returned to the sink. “Besides, you knew this’d be the deathblow.”

“I sort of did, didn’t I?” Harry agreed. Once the café was running they wouldn’t have an excuse not to begin considering the terrifying but irresistible prospect of parenthood. Draco had got in Molly’s good graces about a day after they told her (family dinner, Draco doted, instant success), and Harry had done the same with Narcissa a good three years before they told her, which was two before they were even together. And Harry was doing this. Had done this. Had this family back, now. All they’d need was some time to get their lives together- and start the long adoption process, which they may as well do the second they got off the plane since it’d probably take years, anyway- and then- “And then,” Harry said.

“You’re brooding. I can hear it. ‘My child will never respect me so long as I have these glasses on,’ or something.”

“For the fifty-third time this week I like my glasses, and I’d like to have it on record that I’m not remotely worried about losing respect in the eyes of a _newborn baby_ -”

“Babies grow up, though. Not to mention they just know things when they’re that small.”

“-who we will raise decently enough not to disrespect me, unless I make the mistake of letting you be the fun parent.”

“What’s being the fun parent have to do with anything?”

Harry shrugged. “Assuming whichever of us is the fun one will make fun of the other more, thereby laying the foundational understanding in our children’s heads for how they perceive our flaws as people.”

“I guarantee you any child of mine is going to agree- after breaking your glasses a hundred times or so in childhood- that contacts are the smarter way to go about it.”

Harry felt a wave of something that was very far from amusement. “Are we having a serious discussion or are we talking about my glasses again?”

Draco placed a light hand on his back. “Depends. Which did you want to do?”

Harry turned off the water and went to sit on the living room sofa.

Draco followed him. “Close, or-?”

“Jesus, yes, please,” Harry said, and held his arms out for Draco to fall into them.

“This is nice,” Draco said.

“Have we ever had this discussion?”

“Dunno. Depends if you count all the times we were joking about it and knowing we were kind of serious underneath, like just now. We’re adopting, right?”

Harry looked at him. “How did you know I wanted to do that?”

“I don’t know, shitty childhood, leftover guilt on both our parts about all the parentless children the war made, the existence of kids like you were whose families don’t understand them and don’t want to try.”

Harry buried his face in Draco’s neck. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You know what I want before I do. It’s ridiculous.”

“No it isn’t. You knew you wanted this. You’ve been telling me so since we decided we were in this for good.”

Harry laughed a little, remembering the thousand veiled references he’d made that Draco had _remembered_. “Which was when we decided to tell people.”

“Which was when we decided to tell people.” Draco’s hand was on his neck, clutching lightly at his hair, gentle, reassuring, here I am, take your time, you aren’t being stupid at all.

“How have I been telling you?” Harry knew some ways. Not all, couldn’t be.

“Lots of ways. I don’t know. I just know. It’s how you act. How you talk. How you look at things. I just know.”

Harry laughed against Draco’s skin, heat reverberating back. “I said that once. About you, have I told you that? Snape was interrogating me about thinking you’d done something, and he asked what my proof was and that’s what I said. I just know.”

“Were you right?”

Harry felt his cheeks go hot. “Yeah, but-”

“Was it Dumbledore?”

“Yes.”

Draco’s fingers stroked through his hair. “It’s alright. I’ve told you it’s alright.”

“I know.”

Draco pulled back a little, looked at him. “Are you sure? Because if you’re not we shouldn’t even be talking about this.”

“I’m sure,” Harry said. “I know. I know you, I know we can talk about anything, s’why we’re talking like this, having a serious life discussion while I’m clinging to you on my cousin’s sofa-”

“Yeah, and? Still serious.”

Harry laughed and put his head back in the place where he’d never stopped wanting it to be since he learned how well it fit there. “Let’s just stay on this couch ‘til we die.”

“We don’t have to talk now.”

“No, I want to.” Harry sighed. “So, we’re adopting.”

“Yeah.”

“Preferably a wizarding kid, because of all the reasons you said, but if the agency can’t-”

“Think they will.”

“Right.” Harry drew in a shaky breath. “Is it wrong? Doing this? Picking, without even-”

“Of course not.” Draco’s arms tightened around him. _Safe_. “Our kids are going to have a hard enough time as it is. Be worse if they weren’t wizarding.”

“But there are so many people, so many kids-”

“They let you pick, Harry. Nine times out of ten the kids are muggleborn. And they’re getting better, they’ve been getting loads better, you know that, finding people who need help and helping them.”

“I know,” Harry said. “My best friend’s going to be Minister of Magic eventually, of course I know. I just-” Harry shivered. “It’s always me. Always him, everything that happened happening again. I just don’t want anyone else to have to feel like-” like they aren’t loved by anyone living. Or that it wouldn’t mean anything if they were. “I know I’m being completely illogical-”

Draco’s arms tightened around him. “No, you’re not. You’re being a good parent. Mark of a good parent, worries about their kid being a megalomaniac psychopath before they’ve even got one.”

Harry pulled back just enough to look at him. “M’being serious.”

“So am I. D’you think my mum didn’t worry about that happening to me, dad I’ve got?”

Harry smiled a little. “Of course she did.”

“Exactly. And she may have been very awfully terribly wrong about some things, but she’s still a good parent. You will be, too.”

“You’re just saying that so you can be the fun one.”

A pause. Then, “Do you want to? When we get back? Are you ready, really?”

“Are you?” Harry pulled back properly this time, so he could see Draco’s whole face. “No point in doing it halfway, is there?”

“I think I’d like to open the café first. Fill it with all those books you’ve got stashed in the garage.”

Harry groaned, half dismayed, half relieved. “I’d forgotten about those. But good. Because I was thinking that, too. You know. But after.”

“After,” Draco agreed, drawing him close again.

They sat like that ‘til the oven beeped.

“You shouldn’t have,” Penny said when she got home and saw the desserts.

“It was nothing,” Draco replied, pink in spite of himself.

“It’s professional,” Dudley said appreciatively. “Like you got it at a shop.”

“Good, I’m opening one.”

Dudley looked wrong-footed. “Oh, mate, I’m sorry, I-”

“Still a compliment,” Draco said. “And thanks, by the way. Got to prove my worth to your clan.”

“Penny’s clan,” Dudley corrected. “Mine by association. Already proved yourself to mine, I think.” He winked at Harry.

Harry, who was feeling a bit exhausted from all the crying he’d done while talking about his and Draco’s future kids, had nothing to offer but a disbelieving laugh.

Draco had whipped up a beautiful layer cake with alternating flavors of chocolate sponge and berry mousse. He’d done a perfectly even and smooth coat of chocolate icing around, then decorated it with piped flowers and those little crunchy chocolate beads Harry loved and would buy by the liter if given the chance. “There’s strawberry and raspberry mousse, and then a bit of dark ganache in the middle,” Draco said.

“Not to mention you did bars,” Penny said.

“Blueberry and lemon,” Draco said. These were less visually impressive, though they’d smelled amazing and looked like one perfectly-cut square would not remotely suffice once a person had tasted them. “They’ve got crumble.”

A few minutes later they were piling into the car, Ella smushed between Harry and Draco again, on the way to a dinner that may or may not turn out to be just like brunch. For all the lead-up Thanksgiving hadn’t proved much of an event in the way of clashing sensibilities. Harry had a feeling Eloise’d planned this dinner for that exact reason.

Penny’s parents’ house was in a much older neighborhood, one with a Dallas area code and mature trees. They’d been living in it forever, Penny told them, ever since she was two and her sister four. “That was when my daddy got- well, let’s just say his investments were startin’ to pay off, and once mamma had a taste of that lifestyle they decided that was where they wanted to stay.”

“Huh,” Draco said. “Both my parents were born rich.”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong,” Penny said, and then cleared her throat. Right, yes, impressionable child in car. “My family’s always been well-off. Nothin’ like yours, I’m sure, but as far as generational wealth’s concerned, we’ve got plenty.”

She brought the car to a stop, then, in front of a much older and much more expensive-looking home than the ones in hers and Dudley’s suburb.

“Still what my parents’d call new money,” Draco said under his breath.

They walked up the path, Draco and Harry each carrying one dessert, and Penny opened the door. “Hey, Mamma!”

Eloise appeared seemingly out of nowhere, fluttering her hands. “Oh, do come in.” She ushered them all into the entryway, took the cake from Harry’s grasp, and went through a doorway to the left. She was back almost immediately to take Draco’s dish.

In the few seconds he had to get a feel for the place, Harry registered that stepping inside felt like walking into a freezer. Not temperature. Temperature-wise it was about as warm as he’d expect, fire audible somewhere nearby and soft yellow glow banishing all wintry thought from the room. Despite the cozy lighting, though, the attitude of the house- the feeling it’d absorbed after being occupied by Eloise and Ted for two decades- well. Kind of part of the reason Harry had trouble living in Grimmauld Place, wasn’t it? And Privet Drive, if he was being honest.

Harry chose his words carefully. “Reminds me of where I grew up.”

Dudley shot him a worried look, Penny an apologetic, knowing one.

Harry returned his best ‘don’t worry about it’ expression and plowed on. “You’ve a lovely home.”

“Thank you, thank you, yes, let me take your coats-” Eloise had somehow deposited Draco’s plate in the kitchen and made it back, because now she was opening a coat closet and hanging each one. “Been in the family for a while. We’re hoping _someone_ decides to move back in eventually-”

“Mamma,” Penny said.

But Eloise didn’t let up. “It’d be a shame to lose all that family heritage because some people had _ideas_ about-”

“Mamma!” Penny’s voice was lower and sharper that time.

Harry could tell this was not going to be like brunch.

Penny’s sister was running late, and Eloise assured them all dinner wouldn’t be ready for a bit anyway so they may as well go to the living room and have a chat.

Sitting in the living room, Harry was more directly reminded of Privet Drive. Prim floral furniture, protective little crocheted things on all the tabletops, obnoxiously thick crown molding. The most significant difference was the lack of television, which, of course, was in the den. He tuned in to hear Eloise explaining Ted’s absence, “… always watchin’ some game or other, sure he’ll be out in a minute. Ella, sweetheart, this is all boring grown-up stuff. You can go and play.”

There was a mischievous glint in Ella’s eye as she sprinted down the hall. Whether it had to do with having first pick of toys or something more nefarious remained to be seen.

“So,” Eloise said, crossing her legs at the ankle and leaning forward. “How’d y’all two meet?”

Dudley looked like he’d been through this song and dance before. Penny looked alarmed. Draco looked ready to fire off an answer but perfectly willing not to if Harry wanted to take this one.

Harry wanted to take this one. “Met in school, actually. Rivals.”

“Really? Where’d you go?”

“Small place in Scotland. You wouldn’t have heard of it.”

“Maybe, maybe not. You’d be surprised how worldly havin’ an actuary for a husband makes you. But I’m sure you know better than me there.” That was not a sentence Harry had ever expected to come out of Eloise’s mouth, especially not followed by, “Bit more worldly than we are, I expect?”

Penny looked equally surprised by the topic, but seemed to be taking this line of questioning as part of the inevitable direction she’d anticipated when bringing them there. “You don’t need to give ‘em the Spanish Inquisition, Mamma.”

“No, but I’d like to get to know my family. They are family, now, aren’t they?”

“Well,” Penny looked- and sounded- flustered for the first time Harry’d ever heard. “No, of course they are. I just don’t know if it’s the best idea- you know, if we’d all be _comfortable_ -” this last word said delicately, before Eloise cut her off.

“Nonsense. I am just tryin’ to get to know them. I’m sure I wouldn’t ask anything too outlandish and even if I did I trust the two of you to let me know.”

Harry and Draco were glancing between her and each other. Finally Draco cleared his throat. “Of course. If anyone knows manners, it’s me.”

“That’s what I like to hear. What was your family like? I know the Dursleys were- well, rather cold, I’m sure you’ve heard about it, you two seem very close.”

Eye-contact tennis again. Harry was good at this. Talking around people, saying the right version of the wrong thing to make it acceptable. Been doing it for years. Dursleys’ house, school, charity functions. He decided to clarify ‘close’ by saying, “Practically engaged, really.”

Didn’t shake Eloise. Not like Penny wasn’t clear about it; she’d promised Harry multiple times that everyone knew they were together and knew that ‘that kinda prejudice will not be tolerated in the year of Our Lord 2003, thank you very much.’ Of course, Eloise’s next words were, “Shame it’s not legal. But tell me more about yourselves. Draco? You grow up Christian?”

Harry felt some kind of screeching starting in his head. What was that? Oh. The anger. Right. Have to ignore that, then.

“My family didn’t go to church. Not very religious.”

“Neither was ours,” Dudley said, surprising them all by cutting in.

“Another shame. Y’all plannin’ on being a bigger part of Dudley’s life from now on?”

“Yes,” Harry said through gritted teeth. He coughed, tried again. “We weren’t close when we were younger, but it’s nice, knowing each other now. Always good to have more family.”

“That’s exactly how I feel. Especially internationally, you know, it can only be a benefit.” They all stared at Eloise for a minute. She went on, “Anyway, I have some idea of what it was like for you and Dudley,” this directed at Harry, “from meetin’ your family, but-”

“They’re not,” Harry said. And then wanted to disapparate, statute of secrecy and side effects be damned.

Eloise blinked. Like a predator. “Sorry, sweetheart?”

“The rest of my family’s in London, or near it. The Dursleys never… we fell out of touch. Until recently. Apart from Dudley, I never considered them close.” There was that word again, close, except before it’d meant ‘life partners’ and now it meant ‘be fine if I never spoke to them again.’

Eloise’s voice remained cautiously chipper, an undertone of regret making it clear to everyone she possessed human sympathy even though Harry didn’t believe that for a second. “Well, that explains it.”

Penny’s expression went from upset to livid. “Mamma, what on earth-”

“I’m sorry, I dodn’t mean to be rude, dear, I just- you know, didn’t really hear much about him for so long. Just the mysterious English cousin. I’m glad I can finally put a face to a name.”

“You met him two weeks ago!”

“I will not have that kinda disrespect in my house, Penny-Jo.”

“Sorry.” Penny didn’t look sorry.

Harry realized he was in danger of puncturing his palm with his fingernails and unclenched his fist. Really good call, leaving the wands at home. If his had been anywhere near him-

“I was wondering, Eloise, how you did it,” Draco said, seemingly out of nowhere.

Polite confusion. “Sorry, honey?”

“Well, I know your family gave you so much you never had to work for a single dollar in your life, that much is obvious, it’s just I know it’s difficult running a household and I’m not feeling confident I’ll be able to manage it alongside everything else. Should I tell my parents to beg off, d’you think, or will one of us have to make the noble sacrifice and stay home with the kids?”

Eloise’s facial expression cycled through too many emotions to properly keep track of; disbelief, offense, rage, resolve, a bunch of other ones in between, probably, and then she settled on polite confusion again. “Kids?”

“I know Harry’s always wanted them, and I certainly have no objections despite the fact that having children at all feels like some necessary concession I’m making to my heritage, even though I want them, too, and I just-” Draco cut off indecisively.

“I think that every family has to figure those things out on their own.” Steely resolve. That was it. That was where Eloise had landed. Smiling, too, fake as Harry’d ever seen.

The doorbell rang.

Eloise sprung up to get it.

Harry dropped his voice as low as he could and said to Penny, “You could’ve warned us.”

“Sorry,” Penny hissed. “Didn’t think it’d be the same song and dance for someone I wasn’t _marrying_.”

When Eloise returned it was with Penny’s sister and brother-in-law; their daughters sprinted off to play with Ella.

“So good to see you again,” Draco said, standing to greet them.

Eloise had to go and check on dinner.

“You’re winning,” Dudley said, looking at Draco.

“What?” three of the others said at once.

“I was lucky to make it out alive. You, on the other hand, are winning,” Dudley said, sure as anything.

Harry laughed.

“Are you alright?” Draco asked, going so far as to put a hand on his knee.

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.”

“Dinner,” Eloise announced, appearing again.

“Where’s the powder room?” Harry asked Penny.

She pointed; he fled.

Harry had met this woman twice. Pretended they probably weren’t mortal enemies somewhere deep down twice. And it had been fine. It’s different in the house, Penny said. In the comfort of her own home, Eloise is a very different person. Harry understood all this. He understood it was different with people who didn’t know half his story, let alone know him, and people who, for all their intolerance, were likely much more vindictive than the Dursleys. At least here he had common ground with his aunt and uncle, some shared difference from the people around them that had made Thanksgiving bearable. But this was different. More... well, hostile.

Breaking bread with the enemy, yeah, that was what Harry was about- but then, with a hysterical laugh, he realized that _was_ what he was about. That was his spiel, wasn’t it? Wouldn’t tolerate shit from anyone but was also hell-bent on giving people the chances they deserved. Not to mention the loyalty bit, which had bonded him as steadfastly to Dudley and Penny and Ella as it had to the Weasleys years ago. What was Harry going to do, leave? He’d just told a conservative religious person he was practically married to Draco and, despite wanting to drive away and never see Eloise ever again, Harry had every intention of walking back in there and eating with her. Because it wouldn’t be kind, to Penny or Dudley or even his parents, walking out like that. And he wasn’t going to get more chances to shove his and Draco’s wonderful perfect brilliant love in their faces if he left now.

There was a knock. Harry didn’t know if he hoped it was Draco or dreaded it.

“It’s me.” Penny said.

Harry let her in.

“I am so sorry!” Penny said, and pulled him in for a hug. Then she jolted back. “Oh! I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking, I-”

“It’s fine,” Harry said, hugging her back. “It’s fine.”

“Are you alright?”

“Just need a minute.”

Penny stood back to look at him, to take in his expression. “I didn’t think she’d be this bad. After Thanksgiving.” She looked heartbroken.

Harry did not want her to look heartbroken he was tired of people taking responsibility for the sins of those who raised them Merlin’s fucking- “Don’t. Please. It’s not your fault. This is part of the song and dance, right? Doesn’t matter we’ve broken bread with her until we’re invited to the house for it? After this she’ll have no choice but to acknowledge our existence because we sat at her table and didn’t set the house on fire, right?”

“I wouldn’t blame you. Wanted to do it myself, a few times.”

Harry laughed. “That makes me feel better.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. How’s Draco?”

“Oh, he’s _fine_. Wanted to come after you, actually, but I had a feeling he might come back with double entendres and I really do not want my daddy to have a heart attack, which, given mamma’s big mouth, I’m sure would be a risk.”

Harry grimaced. “You can go back, if you want. Or stay. Though I know we can’t hide forever.”

Penny sighed. “Thank you for doing this.”

Harry shrugged. “Family’s family. Even if I’d rather yank out my own eyeballs than attach that word to some of them.”

Penny laughed, and then hesitated; Harry opened his arms and hugged her again. “Alright,” Penny said. “You take as much time as you need, alright? It’ll take the kids a few more minutes to come down.”

“Right,” Harry said. “See you in there.”

Penny took a deep breath and went out.

Harry gave himself another few minutes before following.

In the dining room (classical, if a bit nauseatingly kitschy for his tastes) Harry found the table set for eight.

“Kids eat in the kitchen,” Penny explained. She was taking a seat; everyone was taking a seat, except Eloise, who was in the kitchen, and whose seat, he assumed, was the one to Ted’s left. There was a hole, though, an empty space. The table went Ted, Draco across from Eloise, chairless place across from Penny, Leah across from Dudley, Robert across from unset place with another next to him. From the sound of it, Eloise was setting out food for the kids in the next room over. Harry could hear a few giggles.

“Uh, Mamma?” Penny said loudly.

Eloise appeared in the doorway. “Yes, honey?”

“You’re short a chair.”

For a second Harry just stood there, not turning to look at her, except he had to turn because Ella’s voice piped up, “Why don’t you just sit on his lap?”

Dead silence.

“That’s what Mommy does to Daddy when they run out of chairs. I know you aren’t married and also if you were I’d be invited to your wedding, but you definitely like each other more than all the other mommies and daddies I know and God says love’s the most important so I’m sure it counts.”

Dudley looked like Christmas had come early. Penny looked very proud but also ready to strangle someone. Ted, who Harry hadn’t even had a chance to say hello to, looked green. Penny’s sister and brother-in-law looked nervous. Draco stood, with a loud scrape of his own chair across the wooden floor, went to the nearest chair- the opposite head of the table one, which also had arms and was therefore making some kind of statement even though it was the closest one so made sense for him to get, anyway- and dragged it around behind Harry. “Darling,” he then said in his deadliest voice.

“Thanks,” Harry said, smiling slightly at him, feeling dizzy, and sat.

“Just one more minute,” Eloise said. Harry hadn’t caught her expression as she retreated, but her voice sounded positively terrifying.

Eloise changed tack while they ate. Instead of pelting them with questions that were borderline rude given Harry had no fucking clue how best to answer them (although he’d learned a thing or two from Draco, even if they hadn’t been to many bigot-filled functions), she let the conversation flow naturally. It was sort of a disaster. Wasn’t like the table could carry on natural conversation without it blowing up in someone’s face. More like laying traps than having a decent talk, really. Draco was fine, of course. He was always fine. Could talk his way out of the gallows if he had to. And Ted looked like he had half a mind to suggest it, when Leah brought up kids and Draco parroted back his feelings from before and the thought of a family with two fathers made Ted look like his head would explode. At one point he said “Christian values,” with no preamble and no follow-up. Just those words, hanging twisted in the empty air. Eloise responded, “Yes, dear, very important. I’m sure these three fine Anglican boys got a taste of them in school,” which it was clear from her tone she did not think at all but at that point dinner had devolved into a surreal, sarcastic game of pinball played primarily between Draco and Eloise, and the futile attempts by the civilized people present to resolve things were failing spectacularly.

The one bright side to all of it was Ella pointing out another subtly homophobic moment- on the question of marriage, not especially obvious but just transparent enough for a four-year-old to understand. Ted had said “Ridiculous,” about children having two fathers, to which Ella loudly replied from the next room, “What’s ridiculous is that some kids have two mommies and two daddies and nobody helps them with their homework!”

That broke Harry’s anger. Like nothing else ever had.

On the way home, none of them said anything. Ella promptly passed out and was carried by her dad upstairs to bed; the other three waited downstairs, each holding a cup of coffee, silent, still.

They sipped.

Dudley bounced down the stairs and went to take a fourth cup from Penny, smiling. He glanced around. “What? Most brilliant thing I’ve ever seen, Draco. Really, if I’d learned to talk to people like that sooner…” he shook his head, held out a hand in Draco’s direction.

A smile broke on Draco’s face as he accepted the handshake. “My pleasure.”

“I’m sorry about your mum,” Harry said, sincerely, to Penny.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”

All of them gaped at her.

“Oh, that was worth the swear and y’all know it. I should be apologizin’ to you! She was worse than she ever was with Dudley, even when she and Petunia got in that weird possessive fight about namin’ Ella after a family member, which we did not do for that exact reason.”

Dudley wrapped his arm around her and looked at her like she was the greatest thing on the planet. Harry couldn’t help but agree with him. He cleared his throat. “Ella. That’s what really got to me. She’s brilliant. Half the people I know wouldn’t have got that jab, and she- she _isn’t_ four?”

“She is,” Penny said, beaming with pride. “I’d know, she came outa me.”

“I was there,” Dudley added. “Definitely four years and change ago.”

“When’s her birthday?” Draco asked.

“March the tenth,” Dudley said.

“Oh,” Penny’s expression changed, not falling, exactly, but going off-kilter. “Oh, no. Y’all aren’t gonna send anything more than a card?”

Harry looked at Draco, read his expression, and turned back to Penny. “How would the two of you feel about an owl?”


	12. Chapter 12

Thursday was positively awful.

They got up at a normal time, and Dudley made them all pancakes with sugar sprinkles melted into the back almost like stained-glass, and Draco and Penny spent an entire hour discussing the shop’s coffee, which Draco had gone to taste in person the day before. Penny had shown him everything, how the place was run and what all they needed to do it and which parts of budgeting were necessary and which ones were scammy extras accountants who weren’t your husband charged you for when you’d be fine without them. Harry had listened as best he could, figuring that, if he was half of the operation, he should have at least some idea how it worked. One day had been enough for him, though, for now, anyway; during breakfast Harry chatted idly with Dudley and Ella, hanging back a little, mostly just enjoying the moment for how absurd it was and how hard its existence made him want to smile.

Harry didn’t want to go.

Of course he did. They had the café to get back to and Draco was probably barely containing his anxiety after having a firsthand walkthrough of just what all he had to do before opening and Ron had sounded like he could use a good hug and all the wide-open spaces had made Harry miss London almost as much as he already missed the bookshop. But he loved Penny and Dudley, too. And Ella, god, was she a marvel.

They had time for one last game of Barbies before going to the airport. Harry made Draco do it because he knew for a fact the chances of him slipping and levitating one were way too high to risk.

“You really love him,” Penny said. She and Harry were next to each other; she was watching Harry watch the Barbies, or, more specifically, watching Harry stare in wonderment as Draco enchanted Ella, no wizardry required.

“Yeah,” Harry said simply. Nothing else for it.

“We’re going to see you again. As often as we can. And my family will be involved as little as possible. Do summer next time, by you. Or maybe a family vacation. That’d be nice. We could both see somewhere new for a change.”

Harry shrugged. “Doesn’t matter much. Vacation would be nice, I think. Although you may have to invite everyone.”

Penny shuddered. “Ugh.”

Harry shot her a look and grinned. “Besides, we may not be direct relatives, but we can still use kids for manipulation. Who knows? They might come around a bit if they’ve another kid to brainwash.”

Penny laughed, took in his expression, and stopped. “You don’t mean us.”

“Not necessarily, no,” Harry said.

“Y’all are sure about it?”

“Not yet. But eventually. Gotta get the café off the ground first. And fill it with books, too. Don’t know how much money we can make with the coffee, but I know we can make something if we sell books. Been doing it long enough.

“I still can’t believe you did that with the fireplace,” Penny said with a laugh, referring to the way they’d transferred the portable Floo to the full-size fireplace so Harry and Draco could chuck all their books through it the night before. Lot less of a hassle than calling the government to help them do it. Penny’s voice rang with the same borderline-giddy disbelief she’d displayed last night when they’d been setting it up. “I mean, I can kinda believe anything’s possible, havin’ Ella. It’s amazin’ to see it, though.” She nudged shoulders with him.

Harry turned to her, smiling. “Same way I felt. When I first saw it all. Like if people could do this, if _I_ could do this, then…” he trailed off.

“Just wait ‘til y’all do have a kid. Never stop amazing you.”

“Ella’s given me a pretty good idea. So’s Teddy. And Rose. They’ll get on, I think, Ella and Rose, once they’re older. Transcontinental cousins.” Harry had told her about them; he’d told her and Dudley about practically everything, by then. Month of talking, give or take, would do that for you.

“You really are smart, you know.” At Harry’s expression, Penny said, “No, I don’t mean it like that, I just- you do well for yourselves. Dud mentioned it sometimes, told me you could take care of yourself. Never wanted to believe it. But seeing you? How alright y’all turned out? I don’t worry about you the way I worry about other people. Know y’all are gonna be alright.”

“I hope so,” Harry said.

“No, I mean it.” Penny put a hand on his arm, drew his eyes. “There’s good things ahead. Y’all are gonna do great things. And if you ever need anything, you call.”

Harry cracked a smile again and tried to shake off the faint echo of another person telling him the same thing for different reasons. “Would you swim?”

“Honey, I have a daughter who’s too smart for her own good most days. I don’t think I’ll have a problem convincin’ someone to set the Floo up if I have to.” Penny said this with such confidence Harry was reminded of Professor McGonagall.

He wondered how he hadn’t noticed the resemblance before. “I love you,” Harry said. Then, to Dudley, “How’d you end up with her, mate?”

“Damned if I know.”

“Daddy! Swearing’s not allowed unless it’s anamergency!”

“Sorry, Ella.”

“You should get a swear jar,” Draco suggested.

“What’s a swear jar?” Ella asked, eyes wide.

Harry loved his family.

“I’ll write to you,” Harry promised Ella for the six trillionth time in the past forty-eight hours. He and Draco were at the door, packed, wands up their sleeves just in case, ready to turn in the rental car and lose their minds at the bill and get on a plane and drag themselves home at the wrong time to find piles and piles of books in their living room. He sincerely hoped none of them had landed wrong, because getting the wrinkles out was going to take ages if they had.

“Uncle Harry, I can only read twenty-six words.”

“Do you mean twenty-six letters?” Draco asked.

Ella crossed her arms in an impressive show of defiance. “No, I mean twenty-six words. I know Ella, Dursley, Mom, Dad, puppy, cat-”

“Your mum can read to you,” Harry said. “Or your dad. ‘Til you learn more words.”

“Speakin’ of certain words,” Penny said. She leaned in to Harry’s ear. “Still can’t believe my brother in law’s famous.”

She had been saying it regularly since the first time she’d phrased it that way and Harry reacted by gasping like a fish. Worked every time, which made it a low blow, but even Harry had to admit it was pretty entertaining.

Dudley shook his head. He had, apparently, heard Penny. “You may be a normal bloke, but I can see it.”

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?” Harry asked.

“Of course it was, you daft- say thank you,” Draco stage whispered.

“Thank you,” Harry said, sincerely, to Dudley. And then, to Penny, too, “Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t need to thank us,” Penny said. “We’re family. S’what we do for each other.”

“You’re all invited to London whenever you want, just so you know,” Draco said. “We’ll need a bit of warning if you don’t want to have to start out a couple hours away at my parents’ house or in whatever hotel we can get you on short notice, but there’s definitely enough room and if you come to the city and don’t stay with us I’ll throw a terrible fit. Make a scene, right on the street, probably. Be something to behold.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” Penny said.

“No,” Harry assured her, “You wouldn’t.”

On that happy note, they said their goodbyes, gave their hugs, and got into the car.

Draco insisted he drive so Harry could wave until they turned out of sight.

They took a plane out of Dallas, which meant a layover, but which also meant they wouldn’t have to spend another second longer than they had to wondering if someone they chanced upon in public would take more offense to their presence than Ted had.

“Wasn’t too bad,” Draco said. “Thought it’d be worse.”

Harry laughed. Unlike Draco, he’d had a taste of being out without the wizarding world knowing, too, and if Draco never felt unsafe again it’d be too soon. Harry told him so.

“Not unsafe. If they were wizards, sure. But they don’t know where we live, do they? And I’d hate to see the fit people’d have if it got out they were related to a couple of London gays, can you imagine?”

“Bi erasure,” Harry said halfheartedly.

“A gay and a bisexual, then,” Draco said, and kissed the top of his forehead. He’d shown more PDA the last few days than he had the whole rest of the trip.

Harry wasn’t complaining, even if he was a bit worried about Draco’s reaction if someone took it badly. “Hold my hand, you sap.”

“M’not a sap. You’re the one who slothed me last night-”

“Please, I sleep normal, it’s you who’d twisted around and got hold of my leg by morning-”

They held hands the rest of the flight.

Maybe it was something to do with being a wizard, or maybe it was that his sleep was messed up anyway, or maybe his body had reached a breaking point; whatever it was, Harry fell back into his normal schedule alarmingly easily. Draco, of course, was an absolute wreck, waking up at four some mornings and ten others. Harry knew this had more to do with the café’s impending opening than overzealous jet lag. Still strange, Draco being the one who couldn’t sleep properly for once.

Blaise had done the job he’d promised to do and then some. He had upgraded the flooring to a kind that wouldn’t wear easily but fit just as well with the décor, not to mention adding an old refurbished counter from before any of them were born at no cost to the rebuilding fund. An hour of thorough inspection and every housekeeping spell that could possibly help proved the leak was banished, as were any other structural issues the building had had before any of them got hold of it. In fact, Blaise had brought it up to a standard a few notches higher than even they had, insisting that ‘fireproof insulation is only as good as the protection charms on it’ and ‘if these walls are ever damp again I’ll be rolling in my grave.’

“What kind of thing to say is that?” Ron asked through a mouthful of scone. “Besides, who says you’ll be dead if it happens?” He and Hermione had stopped by to welcome them back and see how the renovation had gone.

Blaise shrugged. “For one, I know I’ll be _long dead_ by the time such a thing is even possible, thank you very much. Appreciate it if you didn’t insult my craftsmanship implying otherwise. For another, I’d like to think my charm work is virtually indestructible, so-”

“You did all the charms yourself?” Hermione asked, pacing closer to the nearest wall.

“Can’t trust anyone else to do it. Draco would’ve done the same.”

“Show-off,” Harry said under his breath. Draco bumped his shoulder.

Hermione flattened a palm to the wall and cocked her head, feeling the magic. “This can’t have been remotely easy, though. I mean, this place was already warded to hell being in Diagon, and you had to work with those-”

“I got a specialist to help. Just wanted to make sure the casting was up to my caliber.”

“Did you dual cast?”

Blaise nodded.

“Ah, alright. Yes, that’s about as good as you can get. Was it hard to combine your magic styles into one project?”

While the two of them continued discussing the intricacies of dual casting, Ron turned to Draco and said, “You know, you really are good at this. Wouldn’t be saying it if I didn’t believe it, especially since I have mum and the Hogwarts elves both to thank for feeding me.”

“I imagine the counterpoint helps,” Draco said with a significant look at Hermione.

Harry snorted. Ron grinned apologetically. “You know, she’s forgiven you for your war crimes. I understand it’s a stretch, but maybe, just maybe, could you find it in your heart to forgive her the herring?”

“It’s already forgiven,” Draco said with a wave of his hand. “Although with anyone else the answer would probably be no, never in a million years, my ancestors will hold this grudge forever. But thanks for the compliment. I do try.”

“You should have a club or something. Two clubs. One where people meet once a month to try strange coffee, and another where you send it to them. George’s got it set up with new products. He sends them out to a handful of people beforehand, they test them and see how well they work and give feedback. It’s actually a brilliant idea. Apart from the liability, which he still hasn’t worked out with the Ministry, but that isn’t entirely his fault. Good idea anyway.”

“That’s because you came up with it,” Harry pointed out.

Ron went red. “It was a collaborative effort.”

“I’m sure it was, Weasley. I like the idea, though. Are you in the coffee camp, I can never remember?”

“I am neutral, thank you very much.” Though Hermione insisted she’d sell her soul for a fifty pence cup of coffee if she needed it badly enough, Ron refused to take a side. He wouldn’t even admit if he preferred one over the other just a little. Nobody could get him to explain why. Especially strange given he had no problem telling Hermione, until she finally gave up, that she and kitchens were mortal enemies and anything more elaborate than toasting bread or boiling water was sure to end in disaster if she attempted it. “You were good at potions, weren’t you?” he asked Draco. It was one of Ron’s long-standing theories that, like cooking, potion making required some artistic finesse; thus, when it came to the more-art-than-science field of cooking, Hermione was simply too precise a person to manage it.

“I didn’t need any of the tutoring I got from Snape, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Hang on,” Harry said. “Could he bake?”

Draco shrugged. “Didn’t see much point in it, really. Though he was good at it.”

Ron dropped his scone. “Did _he_ teach you?”

Draco bent to pick up the scone, spelled the dust off, and handed it back to Ron. “I learned from many avenues. I found it was the best way to formulate my own style.”

“First off, you sound like an absolute lunatic, so running a café is the perfect job for you,” Ron said. “Second, you mean to tell me that _Professor Snape_ -”

“What’d he make?” Harry interrupted, unable to stop himself. “What was his favorite?”

“When he found the time? Bakewells. Really were the best, too. Not like that time he did bread, which, though it was alright and good for being homemade, it was _not_ -”

“Wow,” Ron said. “I feel like my entire childhood was a lie.”

“Don’t,” Harry advised. “If I rearranged my worldview every time I learned something unexpected about an adult, I’d be in St. Mungo’s right now.”

Ron looked a little alarmed. “Was she that bad?”

Harry didn’t have to ask who Ron meant. “Worse. Tell you and Hermione when they’re done with their charms dissertation,” he said with a nod to her and Blaise. They were still enthusiastically discussing dual casting.

“What about Vernon?”

Harry grinned. “What about him? You should have seen the color his face turned when he realized I was with Draco. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

Draco latched onto that discussion with enthusiasm. “At first I thought Harry was doing magic by mistake, because when he does it takes him about fifteen minutes to notice-”

“Merlin’s fucking tit,” Harry said.

Not like Draco didn’t joke about his clearly superior ‘I’m sorry darling some of us are good at flying and others don’t need a wand magical ability’ on a regular basis, though; he continued as if Harry hadn’t spoken, “-but then I realized that must be the extreme end of the human embarrassment spectrum, and instead of calling the authorities I decided to make an experiment of it. Only took him a few seconds to work himself up, but how long would it take for him to calm down again?”

Harry loved his family.

It wasn’t ‘til a few days later he heard from any of them again, or at least, none of the ones who lived far away. Started with Draco’s voice, “Mail for you, sweetheart,” sweet and open and inviting and making Harry blush a little in front of the handful of customers.

Harry jogged up to the counter and took the envelope Draco was holding. Addressed to him, the flat upstairs, return address 2631 Lemon Grove Lane, Fernandina Beach, FL 32034 USA. “I’ll be- in back,” Harry said, going around the counter to the little narrow office that ran behind it. He sat at the desk chair, pulled his feet up, and slit open the envelope.

Harry-

Poor way to start a letter, really, but I did want to say ha, I am writing to you, and I will continue to do so as long as I know you’re listening.

You have no reason to listen to me, of course. We’ve been over this. I did not do right by you, and I’ll always be sorry for that. My only hope is that I can make up for some of that now.

Enclosed are a few photographs. It’s hard for me to part with them. Still, you have a right.

Certainly this is reading more like a journal than a letter. Suppose it is? Suppose every time I remember something about Lilly I write it down, and send it to you?

Wishing you well,

Aunt Petunia

Draco found him curled up like that, still, letter dropped in surprise, crying over three photographs.

The first was of only Lily, standing in the front yard and looking up at the sky. She couldn’t have been older than Rose was, three at most, little plastic pram held out in front of her on the lawn. The sun lit her beautifully, made her glow, almost, and even though she was squinting in the light Harry could tell she was laughing.

The second was Lily and Petunia, standing side-by-side, probably five to seven years old with matching short haircuts and old-fashioned dresses. Lily had that same glow about her, that same spark of kindness he’d fought so hard to believe he had, too. Petunia looked happy, and calm. A carefree child, yes, but also one who knew with absolute certainty that everything was going to be alright.

The third had both his parents. They were sitting on a sofa he recognized from the background of the second photo. Petunia sat in a chair to the left, looking at them in a way that was unaccountably sad. All three were holding champagne; an engagement announcement, maybe.

Harry looked at this one the longest. He understood why Petunia had given it to him. It explained the way things were, the way they all felt about each other, with just those three expressions. Lily’s was nervous, but happy, and she looked at James the way Petunia had looked at the camera in the second photo, sure that everything would be alright. James looked absolutely besotted with her. His hands were raised mid-gesture, probably talking about something entirely unrelated, but even so it was clear he was madly in love. Like he couldn’t look at her any other way.

Petunia’s expression told him everything else. Now he’s taking my sister, and there really is nothing I can do about it.

Maybe he was reading into it. Completely wrong. Not like Petunia had said any of this in the letter. Hadn’t said anything, really; just an offering. Here, take this. Should be yours anyway.

“Harry?”

“What?” he said, and sniffed, and looked up to find a blurry Draco hovering in the doorway.

“Are you alright?”

“I hate it when people ask that, you know?” Harry wiped his eyes and placed the photos carefully on the desk, bent down to pick up the letter. “Makes me feel like I’m still fifteen and they’re waiting for me to explode.”

“But you know I’m not,” Draco said.

“No. I know you’re not,” Harry agreed, breathing finally calm again. “She sent pictures.”

Draco would have seen the return address, didn’t need to ask. “Anything good?”

“None of me,” Harry said with a laugh. It came out strange, like he couldn’t tell if he was bitter or indifferent about it. “My mother. They’re pictures of my mother.” He picked them up, held them out to Draco.

“You look so much like her.”

Harry shook his head. “Look like my dad.”

“Well, of course you do, you’ve both got the same stupid hair, but-” Draco held up the third photo. “Here especially. The way you smile, sometimes. It’s exactly like that.”

No one had ever said that to him. “I don’t have as many pictures of her. All the ones Sirius had were from before, or else she was behind the camera.” There were hundreds of pictures of his dad. At some point one of the Marauders must have thought themselves a photographer- Sirius, most likely, even though that meant there were as many portraits as there were pictures of anybody else- and he had two whole albums of them, on top of the one Hagrid had given him all those years ago and the few photos he’d found over the years. “Thank you,” Harry said. “For going with me. When you should have been here, doing this.”

“No,” Draco said, touching his face. “No, sweetheart, I would rather be with you. I would always rather be with you.”

“Silly,” Harry said, and buried his face in Draco’s waist and inhaled.

“That’s you, actually. Thinking you don’t look like your mother. You’re a spitting image, really.”

Harry laughed, the sound muffled by the fabric. He tightened his arms around Draco. “Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me. I love you. All this stuff’s my job, just like it’s your job to stay up ‘til however late last night because the shipment was delayed ten hours-”

“Dunno how a shipment gets delayed ten hours.”

“Me neither.”

That year’s Christmas card, the three of them were holding hands, Ella in the middle, swinging between them. “We’re getting her a Christmas gift, too, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Draco said. “Already ordered it. Superhero playset to go with the Barbies.”

Harry maybe knew what they all meant, now. The Lily and the younger Petunia and Penny that last day sitting on the sofa. About everything going to be okay.

Sometimes he forgot.

Good thing he had reminders. In the books all around him and the smell of too-dark coffee and the beaming idiot standing next to him and the years and years of Christmas cards.

“You’re doing it again,” Draco said.

“What?”

“Looking like your mum.”

Harry hoped he never stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Glad I finally got to share a National Novel Writing Month with you :)


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